HAWTHORNE'S 
X  WONDER 
^     BOOK 


• 


HAWTHORNE'S 
WONDER    BOOK 

WE  INVITE  you  to  visit  Tangle- 
wood — a  beautiful  country  home 
surrounded  by  rolling  hills,  trees, 
long  meadows,  and  frolicking 
brooks,  to  play  the  whole  day 
long  with  Primrose,  Cowslip, 
Buttercup,  Clover  (these  are  not 
their  real  names)  and  all  the 
other  children  and  with  Cousin 
Eustace  Bright  who  has  the 
happy  knack  of  making  every- 
thing such  fun,  and  whose  fame 
as  a  story  teller,  who  knows  how 
and  when  to  tell  stories,  has 
spread  far  and  wide. 

When  Jack  Frost  stretches  out 
his  finger  and  turns  all  the  trees 
to  red  and  gold,  he  will  tell  you 
of  King  Midas  and  THE  GOL- 
DEN TOUCH.  In  the  spring 
he  will  take  you  hiking  up  the 
mountain  where  little  farmhouses 
beneath  great  old  trees  dot  the 
landscape  and  you  will  hear  the 
story  of  THE  MIRACULOUS 
PITCHER.  In  the  play  room 
when  it  is  cold  or  rainy  you  will 
listen  to  THE  PARADISE  OF 
CHILDREN— and  so  on  till  all 
the  tales  in  HAWTHORNE'S 
WONDER  BOOK  are  told. 

After  each  story  we  ask  Cousin 
Eustace  questions  and  all  discuss 
exciting  parts  to  discover  any 
mysterious  secrets  which  we  over- 
looked at  first. 

And,  best  of  all,  you  won't  have 
to  shut  your  eyes  to  imagine 
everything,  for  Arthur  Rackham 
has  drawn  the  pictures  in  color 
for  you. 

Will  you  accept  our  invitation? 

COLOR  PLATES  IMPOK 
FROM  KN«;t 


AWONPER  BOOR 


There  was  no  danger,  nor  trouble  of  any  kind 


A  WONPER  BOOK 


BY 

NATHAATI&L  HAWTHORNE 


ILLUSTRATED  0Y 

ARTHUR 


GARDEN  CITY  PUBLISHING  CO.,  INC. 
GARDEN  CITY,  NEW  YORK 


ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 

FEINTED   IN    THE    UNITED   STATES   AT 

THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 

CAKDEN    CITY,    N.   Y. 


I 


PREFACE 

author  has  long  been  of  opinion  that  many 
of  the  classical  myths  were  capable  of  being 
rendered  into  very  capital  reading  for  children. 
In  the  little  volume  here  offered  to  the  public,  he  has 
worked  up  half  a  dozen  of  them,  with  this  end  in  view. 
A  great  freedom  of  treatment  was  necessary  to  his  plan  ; 
but  it  will  be  observed  by  every  one  who  attempts  to 
render  these  legends  malleable  in  his  intellectual  furnace, 
that  they  are  marvellously  independent  of  all  temporary 
modes  and  circumstances.  They  remain  essentially  the 
same,  after  changes  that  would  affect  the  identity  of  almost 
anything  else. 


Vll 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

He  does  not,  therefore,  plead  guilty  to  a  sacrilege,  in 
having  sometimes  shaped  anew,  as  his  fancy  dictated,  the 
forms  that  have  been  hallowed  by  an  antiquity  of  two  or 
three  thousand  years.  No  epoch  of  time  can  claim  a 
copyright  in  these  immortal  fables.  They  seem  never 
to  have  been  made  ;  and  certainly,  so  long  as  man  exists, 
they  can  never  perish  ;  but,  by  their  indestructibility 
itself,  they  are  legitimate  subjects  for  every  age  to  clothe 
with  its  own  garniture  of  manners  and  sentiment,  and  to 
imbue  with  its  own  morality.  In  the  present  version  they 
may  have  lost  much  of  their  classical  aspect  (or,  at  all 
events,  the  author  has  not  been  careful  to  preserve  it),  and 
have,  perhaps,  assumed  a  Gothic  or  romantic  guise. 

In  performing  this  pleasant  task, — for  it  has  been 
really  a  task  fit  for  hot  weather,  and  one  of  the  most 
agreeable,  of  a  literary  kind,  which  he  ever  undertook, — 
the  author  has  not  always  thought  it  necessary  to  write 
downward,  in  order  to  meet  the  comprehension  of  children. 
He  has  generally  suffered  the  theme  to  soar,  whenever  such 
was  its  tendency,  and  when  he  himself  was  buoyant  enough 
to  follow  without  an  effort.  Children  possess  an  unesti- 
mated  sensibility  to  whatever  is  deep  or  high,  in  imagin- 
ation or  feeling,  so  long  as  it  is  simple,  likewise.  It  is 
only  the  artificial  and  the  complex  that  bewilder  them. 

LENOX,  July  15,  1851. 


via 


CONTENTS 

THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

PAGE 

TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. — INTRODUCTORY  TO  '  THE  GORGON'S 

HEAD  '   .         ••••••••3 

THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 9 

TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. — AFTER  THE  STORY         ...      38 

THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

SHADOW    BROOK.  —  INTRODUCTORY     TO     *  THE     GOLDEN 

TOUCH  ' 43 

THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 47 

SHADOW  BROOK. — AFTER  THE  STORY        ....      68 

THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

TANGLEWOOD     PLAYROOM.  —  INTRODUCTORY     TO     *  THE 

PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN  '  .        .        .        .        .        .      75 

THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN    .         .        .        .        .        •      79 
TANGLEWOOD  PLAYROOM. — AFTER  THE  STORY  .        •      99 

ix 


PACT 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE. — INTRODUCTORY   TO   *  THE  THREE 

GOLDEN  APPLES  ' 103 

THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

TANGLEWOOD  FIRESIDE. — AFTER  THE  STORY 


109 
134 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

THE    HILL-SIDE. — INTRODUCTORY   TO   *  THE   MIRACULOUS 

PITCHER  ' 139 

THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 143 

THE  HILL-SIDE. — AFTER  THE  STORY        .        .        .        .167 


THE  CHIMERA 
BALD-SUMMIT. — INTRODUCTORY  TO  '  THE  CHIMERA  '  . 

THE  CHIMJERA 

BALD-SUMMIT. — AFTER  THE  STORY  . 


171 


203 


1ST  OF   ILLUSTRA- 
TIONS 

THERE  WAS  NO  DANGER,  NOR  TROUBLE  OF  ANY  KIND  Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

DANAE  CLASPED  HER  CHILD  CLOSELY  .  .  .  12 
OH  WHAT  A  GOOD  TIME  WAS  THAT  TO  BE  ALIVE  IN  .  84 
A  SUDDEN  SWARM  OF  WINGED  CREATURES  BRUSHED  PAST 

HER 92 

THEY  HAVE  SEA-GREEN  HAIR Il6 

A  SCALY  SET  OF  RASCALS 164 

ITS  THREE  HEADS  SPLUTTERING  FIRE     .           .           .           .  196 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 


TANGLEWOOD   PORCH 

INTRODUCTORY    TO 
4 THE  GORGON'S  HEAD' 


BENEATH  the  porch  of  the  country-seat  called 
Tanglewood,  one  fine  autumnal  morning,  was 
assembled  a  merry  party  of  little  folks,  with  a 
tall  youth  in  the  midst  of  them.  They  had  planned  a 
nutting  expedition,  and  were  impatiently  waiting  for  the 
mists  to  roll  up  the  hill-slopes,  and  for  the  sun  to  pour  the 
warmth  of  the  Indian  summer  over  the  fields  and  pastures, 
and  into  the  nooks  of  the  many-coloured  woods.  There 
was  a  prospect  of  as  fine  a  day  as  ever  gladdened  the  aspect 
of  this  beautiful  and  comfortable  world.  As  yet,  however, 
the  morning  mist  filled  up  the  whole  length  and  breadth 
of  the  valley,  above  which,  on  a  gently  sloping  eminence, 
the  mansion  stood. 

This  body  of  white  vapour  extended  to  within  less  than 
a  hundred  yards  of  the  house.  It  completely  hid  every- 
thing beyond  that  distance,  except  a  few  ruddy  or  yellow 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

tree-tops,  which  here  and  there  emerged,  and  were 
glorified  by  the  early  sunshine,  as  was  likewise  the  broad 
surface  of  the  mist.  Four  or  five  miles  off  to  the  south- 
ward rose  the  summit  of  Monument  Mountain,  and 
seemed  to  be  floating  on  a  cloud.  Some  fifteen  miles 
farther  away,  in  the  same  direction,  appeared  the  loftier 
Dome  of  Taconic,  looking  blue  and  indistinct,  and  hardly 
so  substantial  as  the  vapoury  sea  that  almost  rolled  over 
it.  The  nearer  hills,  which  bordered  the  valley,  were 
half  submerged,  and  were  specked  with  little  cloud- 
wreaths  all  the  way  to  their  tops.  On  the  whole,  there 
was  so  much  cloud,  and  so  little  solid  -earth,  that  it  had 
the  effect  of  a  vision. 

The  children  above-mentioned,  being  as  full  of  life  as 
they  could  hold,  kept  overflowing  from  the  porch  of 
Tanglewood,  and  scampering  along  the  gravel- walk,  or 
rushing  across  the  dewy  herbage  of  the  lawn.  I  can 
hardly  tell  how  many  of  these  small  people  there  were  ; 
not  less  than  nine  or  ten,  however,  nor  more  than  a  dozen, 
of  all  sorts,  sizes,  and  ages,  whether  girls  or  boys.  They 
were  brothers,  sisters,  and  cousins,  together  with  a  few 
of  their  young  acquaintances,  who  had  been  invited  by 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pringle  to  spend  some  of  this  delightful 
weather  with  their  own  children,  at  Tanglewood.  I  am 
afraid  to  tell  you  their  names,  or  even  to  give  them  any 
names  which  other  children  have  ever  been  called  by  ; 
because,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  authors  sometimes  get 
themselves  into  great  trouble  by  accidentally  giving  the 
names  of  real  persons  to  the  characters  in  their  books. 
For  this  reason,  I  mean  to  call  them  Primrose,  Periwinkle, 
Sweet  Fern,  Dandelion,  Blue  Eye,  Clover,  Huckleberry, 

4 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

Cowslip,  Squash-Blossom,  Milkweed,  Plantain,  and  Butter- 
cup ;  although,  to  be  sure,  such  titles  might  better  suit  a 
group  of  fairies  than  a  company  of  earthly  children. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  these  little  folks  were  to  be 
permitted  by  their  careful  fathers  and  mothers,  uncles, 
aunts,  or  grandparents,  to  stray  abroad  into  the  woods  and 
fields,  without  the  guardianship  of  some  particularly  grave 
and  elderly  person.  Oh  no,  indeed  !  In  the  first  sentence 
of  my  book,  you  will  recollect  that  I  spoke  of  a  tall  youth, 
standing  in  the  midst  of  the  children.  His  name — (and  I 
shall  let  you  know  his  real  name,  because  he  considers  it  a 
great  honour  to  have  told  the  stories  that  are  here  to  be 
printed) — his  name  was  Eustace  Bright.  He  was  a  student 
at  Williams  College,  and  had  reached,  I  think,  at  this 
period,  the  venerable  age  of  eighteen  years  ;  so  that  he 
felt  quite  like  a  grandfather  towards  Periwinkle,  Dandelion, 
Huckleberry,  Squash-Blossom,  Milkweed,  and  the  rest, 
who  were  only  half  or  a  third  as  venerable  as  he.  A 
trouble  in  his  eyesight  (such  as  many  students  think  it 
necessary  to  have,  nowadays,  in  order  to  prove  their 
diligence  at  their  books)  had  kept  him  from  college  a 
week  or  two  after  the  beginning  of  the  term.  But,  for 
my  part,  I  have  seldom  met  with  a  pair  of  eyes  that 
looked  as  if  they  could  see  farther  or  better  than  those 
of  Eustace  Bright. 

This  learned  student  was  slender,  and  rather  pale,  as 
all  Yankee  students  are  ;  but  yet  of  a  healthy  aspect,  and 
as  light  and  active  as  if  he  had  wings  to  his  shoes.  By  and 
by,  being  much  addicted  to  wading  through  streamlets  and 
across  meadows,  he  had  put  on  cowhide  boots  for  the 
expedition.  He  wore  a  linen  blouse,  a  cloth  cap,  and  a 

5 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

pair  of  green  spectacles,  which  he  had  assumed,  probably, 
less  for  the  preservation  of  his  eyes  than  for  the  dignity 
that  they  imparted  to  his  countenance.  In  either  case, 
however,  he  might  as  well  have  let  them  alone  ;  for  Huckle- 
berry, a  mischievous  little  elf,  crept  behind  Eustace  as  he 
sat  on  the  steps  of  the  porch,  snatched  the  spectacles  from 
his  nose,  and  clapped  them  on  her  own  ;  and  as  the  student 
forgot  to  take  them  back,  they  fell  off  into  the  grass,  and 
lay  there  till  the  next  spring. 

Now,  Eustace  Bright,  you  must  know,  had  won  great 
fame  among  the  children,  as  a  narrator  of  wonderful 
stories ;  and  though  he  sometimes  pretended  to  be 
annoyed,  when  they  teased  him  for  more,  and  more,  and 
always  for  more,  yet  I  really  doubt  whether  he  liked  any- 
thing quite  so  well  as  to  tell  them.  You  might  have  seen 
his  eyes  twinkle,  therefore,  when  Clover,  Sweet  Fern, 
Cowslip,  Buttercup,  and  most  of  their  playmates,  besought 
him  to  relate  one  of  his  stories,  while  they  were  waiting  for 
the  mist  to  clear  up. 

'  Yes,  Cousin  Eustace/  said  Primrose,  who  was  a  bright 
girl  of  twelve,  with  laughing  eyes,  and  a  nose  that  turned 
up  a  little,  *  the  morning  is  certainly  the  best  time  for  the 
stories  with  which  you  so  often  tire  out  our  patience.  We 
shall  be  in  less  danger  of  hurting  your  feelings,  by  falling 
asleep  at  the  most  interesting  points, — as  little  Cowslip 
and  I  did  last  night ! ' 

*  Naughty  Primrose/  cried  Cowslip,  a  child  of  six  years 
old  ;  *  I  did  not  fall  asleep,  and  I  only  shut  my  eyes,  so  as 
to  see  a  picture  of  what  Cousin  Eustace  was  telling  about. 
His  stories  are  good  to  hear  at  night  because  we  can  dream 
about  them  asleep  ;  and  good  in  the  morning,  too,  because 

6 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

then  we  can  dream  about  them  awake.    So  I  hope  he  will 
tell  us  one  this  very  minute.' 

*  Thank  you,  my  little  Cowslip,'  said  Eustace  ;   *  cer- 
tainly you  shall  have  the  best  story  I  can  think  of,  if  it  were 
only  for  defending  me  so  well  from  that  naughty  Primrose. 
But,  children,  I  have  already  told  you  so  many  fairy  tales, 
that  I  doubt  whether  there  is  a  single  one  which  you  have 
not  heard  at  least  twice  over.    I  am  afraid  you  will  fall 
asleep  in  reality,  if  I  repeat  any  of  them  again.' 

*  No,  no,  no  ! '    cried  Blue  Eye,  Periwinkle,  Plantain, 
and  half  a  dozen  others.    '  We  like  a  story  all  the  better 
for  having  heard  it  two  or  three  times  before.' 

And  it  is  a  truth,  as  regards  children,  that  a  story  seems 
often  to  deepen  its  mark  in  their  interest,  not  merely  by 
two  or  three,  but  by  numberless  repetitions.  But  Eustace 
Bright,  in  the  exuberance  of  his  resources,  scorned  to 
avail  himself  of  an  advantage  which  an  older  story-teller 
would  have  been  glad  to  grasp  at. 

*  It  would  be  a  great  pity,'  said  he,  'if  a  man  of  my 
learning  (to  say  nothing  of  original  fancy)  could  not  find 
a  new  story  every  day,  year  in  and  year  out,  for  children 
such  as  you.    I  will  tell  you  one  of  the  nursery  tales  that 
were  made  for  the  amusement  of  our  great  old  grand- 
mother, the  Earth,  when  she  was  a  child  in  frock  and 
pinafore.    There  are  a  hundred  such  ;  and  it  is  a  wonder 
to  me  that  they  have  not  long  ago  been  put  into  picture- 
books  for  little  girls  and  boys.    But,  instead  of  that,  old 
gray-bearded  grandsires  pore  over  them  in  musty  volumes 
of  Greek,  and  puzzle  themselves  with  trying  to  find  out 
when,  and  how,  and  for  what  they  were  made.' 

'  Well,  well,  well,  well,  Cousin  Eustace  !  '  cried  all  the 

7 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

children  at  once  ;  '  talk  no  more  about  your  stories,  but 
begin.' 

*  Sit  down,  then,  every  soul  of  you,'  said  Eustace 
Bright,  *  and  be  all  as  still  as  so  many  mice.  At  the 
slightest  interruption,  whether  from  great,  naughty  Prim- 
rose, little  Dandelion,  or  any  other,  I  shall  bite  the  story 
short  off  between  my  teeth,  and  swallow  the  untold  part. 
But,  in  the  first  place,  do  any  of  you  know  what  a  Gorgon 
is?' 

'  I  do,'  said  Primrose. 

'  Then  hold  your  tongue  ! '  rejoined  Eustace,  who  had 
rather  she  would  have  known  nothing  about  the  matter. 
'  Hold  all  your  tongues,  and  I  shall  tell  you  a  sweet  pretty 
story  of  a  Gorgon's  head.' 

And  so  he  did,  as  you  may  begin  to  read  on  the  next 
page.  Working  up  his  sophomorical  erudition  with  a 
good  deal  of  tact,  and  incurring  great  obligations  to 
Professor  Anthon,  he  nevertheless  disregarded  all 
classical  authorities,  whenever  the  vagrant  audacity  of 
his  imagination  impelled  him  to  do  so. 


THE   GORGON'S   HEAD 


PERSEUS  was  the  son  of  Danae,  who  was  the 
daughter  of  a  king.  And  when  Perseus  was  a 
very  little  boy,  some  wicked  people  put  his 
mother  and  himself  into  a  chest,  and  set  them  afloat  upon 
the  sea.  The  wind  blew  freshly,  and  drove  the  chest 
away  from  the  shore,  and  the  uneasy  billows  tossed  it  up 
and  down  ;  while  Danae  clasped  her  child  closely  to  her 
bosom,  and  dreaded  that  some  big  wave  would  dash  its 
foamy  crest  over  them  both.  The  chest  sailed  on,  however, 
and  neither  sank  nor  was  upset ;  until,  when  night  was 
coming,  it  floated  so  near  an  island  that  it  got  entangled  in 
a  fisherman's  nets,  and  was  drawn  out  high  and  dry  upon 
the  sand.  The  island  was  called  Seriphus,  and  it  was 
reigned  over  by  King  Polydectes,  who  happened  to  be  the 
fisherman's  brother. 

This  fisherman,  I  am  glad  to  tell  you,  was  an  exceedingly 
B  9 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

humane  and  upright  man.  He  showed  great  kindness  to 
Danae  and  her  little  boy  ;  and  continued  to  befriend  them, 
until  Perseus  had  grown  to  be  a  handsome  youth,  very 
strong  and  active,  and  skilful  in  the  use  of  arms.  Long 
before  this  time,  King  Polydectes  had  seen  the  two  strangers 
— the  mother  and  her  child — who  had  come  to  his  dominions 
in  a  floating  chest.  As  he  was  not  good  and  kind,  like  his 
brother  the  fisherman,  but  extremely  wicked,  he  resolved  to 
send  Perseus  on  a  dangerous  enterprise,  in  which  he  would 
probably  be  killed,  and  then  to  do  some  great  mischief  to 
Danae  herself.  So  this  bad-hearted  king  spent  a  long 
while  in  considering  what  was  the  most  dangerous  thing 
that  a  young  man  could  possibly  undertake  to  perform. 
At  last,  having  hit  upon  an  enterprise  that  promised  to  turn 
out  as  fatally  as  he  desired,  he  sent  for  the  youthful 
Perseus. 

The  young  man  came  to  the  palace,  and  found  the 
king  sitting  upon  his  throne. 

'  Perseus/  said  King  Polydectes,  smiling  craftily  upon 
him,  '  you  are  grown  up  a  fine  young  man.  You  and 
your  good  mother  have  received  a  great  deal  of  kindness 
from  myself,  as  well  as  from  my  worthy  brother  the 
fisherman,  and  I  suppose  you  would  not  be  sorry  to  repay 
some  of  it.' 

*  Please  your  Majesty/  answered  Perseus,  '  I  would 
willingly  risk  my  life  to  do  so.' 

*  Well,  then/  continued  the  king,  still  with  a  cunning 
smile  on  his  lips,  *  I  have  a  little  adventure  to  propose  to 
you  ;  and,  as  you  are  a  brave  and  enterprising  youth,  you 
will  doubtless  look  upon  it  as  a  great  piece  of  good  luck 
to  have  so  rare  an  opportunity  of  distinguishing  yourself. 

10 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

You  must  know,  my  good  Perseus,  I  think  of  getting 
married  to  the  beautiful  Princess  Hippodamia  ;  and  it  is 
customary,  on  these  occasions,  to  make  the  bride  a  present 
of  some  far-fetched  and  elegant  curiosity.  I  have  been  a 
little  perplexed,  I  must  honestly  confess,  where  to  obtain 
anything  likely  to  please  a  princess  of  her  exquisite  taste. 
But,  this  morning,  I  flatter  myself,  I  have  thought  of 
precisely  the  article.' 

*  And  can  I   assist  your  Majesty  in  obtaining  it  ?  ' 
cried  Perseus  eagerly. 

*  You  can,  if  you  are  as  brave  a  youth  as  I  believe  you 
to  be,'  replied  King  Polydectes,  with  the  utmost  gracious- 
ness  of  manner.    *  The  bridal  gift  which  I  have  set  my 
heart  on  presenting  to  the  beautiful  Hippodamia  is  the 
head  of  the  Gorgon  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks  ;  and  I 
depend  on  you,  my  dear  Perseus,  to  bring  it  to  me.    So, 
as  I  am  anxious  to  settle  affairs  with  the  princess,  the 
sooner  you  go  in  quest  of  the  Gorgon,  the  better  I  shall  be 
pleased.' 

*  I  will  set  out  to-morrow  morning,'  answered  Perseus. 

*  Pray  do  so,  my  gallant  youth/  rejoined  the  king. 
*  And,  Perseus,  in  cutting  off  the  Gorgon's  head,  be  careful 
to  make  a  clean  stroke,  so  as  not  to  injure  its  appearance. 
You  must  bring  it  home  in  the  very  best  condition,  in  order 
to    suit    the    exquisite    taste    of   the    beautiful    Princess 
Hippodamia.' 

Perseus  left  the  palace,  but  was  scarcely  out  of  hearing 
before  Polydectes  burst  into  a  laugh ;  being  greatly 
amused,  wicked  king  that  he  was,  to  find  how  readily 
the  young  man  fell  into  the  snare.  The  news  quickly 
spread  abroad  that  Perseus  had  undertaken  to  cut  off  the 

ii 

• 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks.  Everybody  was 
rejoiced  ;  for  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  island  were  as 
wicked  as  the  king  himself,  and  would  have  liked  nothing 
better  than  to  see  some  enormous  mischief  happen  to 
Danae  and  her  son.  The  only  good  man  in  this  unfor- 
tunate island  of  Seriphus  appears  to  have  been  the  fisher- 
man. As  Perseus  walked  along,  therefore,  the  people 
pointed  after  him,  and  made  mouths,  and  winked  to  one 
another,  and  ridiculed  him  as  loudly  as  they  dared. 

'  Ho,  ho  !  '  cried  they  ;  '  Medusa's  snakes  will  sting 
him  soundly  !  ' 

Now,  there  were  three  Gorgons  alive  at  that  period  ; 
and  they  were  the  most  strange  and  terrible  monsters  that 
had  ever  been  seen  since  the  world  was  made,  or  that  have 
been  seen  in  after  days,  or  that  are  likely  to  be  seen  in  all 
time  to  come.  I  hardly  know  what  sort  of  creature  or 
hobgoblin  to  call  them.  They  were  three  sisters,  and  seem 
to  have  borne  some  distant  resemblance  to  women,  but 
were  really  a  very  frightful  and  mischievous  rpecies  of 
dragon.  It  is,  indeed,  difficult  to  imagine  what  hideous 
beings  these  three  sisters  were.  Why,  instead  of  locks  of 
hair,  if  you  can  believe  me,  they  had  each  of  them  a 
hundred  enormous  snakes  growing  on  their  heads,  all  alive, 
twisting,  wriggling,  curling,  and  thrusting  out  their 
venomous  tongues,  with  forked  stings  at  the  end  !  The 
teeth  of  the  Gorgons  were  terribly  long  tusks  ;  their  hands 
were  made  of  brass  ;  and  their  bodies  were  all  over  scales, 
which,  if  not  iron,  were  something  as  hard  and  impenetrable. 
They  had  wings,  too,  and  exceedingly  splendid  ones,  I 
can  assure  you  ;  for  every  feather  in  them  was  pure, 
bright,  glittering,  burnished  gold,  and  they  looked  very 

12 


Dana'e  clasped  her  child  closely 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

dazzlingly,  no  doubt,  when  the  Gorgons  were  flying  about 
in  the  sunshine. 

But  when  people  happened  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
their  glittering  brightness,  aloft  in  the  air,  they  seldom 
stopped  to  gaze,  but  ran  and  hid  themselves  as  speedily 
as  they  could.  You  will  think,  perhaps,  that  they  were 
afraid  of  being  stung  by  the  serpents  that  served  the 
Gorgons  instead  of  hair, — or  of  having  their  heads  bitten 
off  by  their  ugly  tusks, — or  of  being  torn  all  to  pieces  by 
their  brazen  claws.  Well,  to  be  sure,  these  were  some  of 
the  dangers,  but  by  no  means  the  greatest,  nor  the  most 
difficult  to  avoid.  For  the  worst  thing  about  these 
abominable  Gorgons  was,  that,  if  once  a  poor  mortal 
fixed  his  eyes  full  upon  one  of  their  faces,  he  was  certain, 
that  very  instant,  to  be  changed  from  warm  flesh  and  blood 
into  cold  and  lifeless  stone  ! 

Thus,  as  you  will  easily  perceive,  it  was  a  very  dangerous 
adventure  that  the  wicked  King  Polydectes  had  contrived 
for  this  innocent  young  man.  Perseus  himself,  when  he 
had  thought  over  the  matter,  could  not  help  seeing  that  he 
had  very  little  chance  of  coming  safely  through  it,  and 
that  he  was  far  more  likely  to  become  a  stone  image  than 
to  bring  back  the  head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks. 
For,  not  to  speak  of  other  difficulties,  there  was  one  which 
it  would  have  puzzled  an  older  man  than  Perseus  to  get 
over.  Not  only  must  he  fight  with  and  slay  this  golden- 
winged,  iron-scaled,  long-tusked,  brazen-clawed,  snaky- 
haired  monster,  but  he  must  do  it  with  his  eyes  shut,  or, 
at  least,  without  so  much  as  a  glance  at  the  enemy  with 
whom  he  was  contending.  Else,  while  his  arm  was  lifted 
to  strike,  he  would  stiffen  into  stone,  and  stand  with  that 

13 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

uplifted  arm  for  centuries,  until  time,  and  the  wind  and 
weather,  should  crumble  him  quite  away.  This  would  be 
a  very  sad  thing  to  befall  a  young  man  who  wanted  to 
perform  a  great  many  brave  deeds,  and  to  enjoy  a  great 
deal  of  happiness,  in  this  bright  and  beautiful  world. 

So  disconsolate  did  these  thoughts  make  him,  that 
Perseus  could  not  bear  to  tell  his  mother  what  he  had 
undertaken  to  do.  He  therefore  took  his  shield,  girded 
on  his  sword,  and  crossed  over  from  the  island  to  the 
mainland,  where  he  sat  down  in  a  solitary  place,  and  hardly 
refrained  from  shedding  tears. 

But,  while  he  was  in  this  sorrowful  mood,  he  heard  a 
voice  close  beside  him. 

*  Perseus,'  said  the  voice,  *  why  are  you  sad  ?  ' 

He  lifted  his  head  from  his  hands,  in  which  he  had 
hidden  it,  and,  behold  !  all  alone  as  Perseus  had  supposed 
himself  to  be,  there  was  a  stranger  in  the  solitary  place. 
It  was  a  brisk,  intelligent,  and  remarkably  shrewd-looking 
young  man,  with  a  cloak  over  his  shoulders,  an  odd  sort 
of  cap  on  his  head,  a  strangely  twisted  staff  in  his  hand, 
and  a  short  and  very  crooked  sword  hanging  by  his  side. 
He  was  exceedingly  light  and  active  in  his  figure,  like  a 
person  much  accustomed  to  gymnastic  exercises,  and  well 
able  to  leap  or  run.  Above  all,  the  stranger  had  such  a 
cheerful,  knowing,  and  helpful  aspect  (though  it  was 
certainly  a  little  mischievous,  into  the  bargain),  that 
Perseus  could  not  help  feeling  his  spirits  grow  livelier  as 
he  gazed  at  him.  Besides,  being  really  a  courageous  youth, 
he  felt  greatly  ashamed  that  anybody  should  have  found 
him  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  like  a  timid  little  schoolboy, 
when,  after  all,  there  might  be  no  occasion  for  despair 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

So  Perseus  wiped  his  eyes,  and  answered  the  stranger 
pretty  briskly,  putting  on  as  brave  a  look  as  he  could. 

4  I  am  not  so  very  sad,'  said  he,  *  only  thoughtful  about 
an  adventure  that  I  have  undertaken.' 

*  Oho  ! '    answered  the  stranger.    *  Well,  tell  me  all 
about  it,  and  possibly  I  may  be  of  service  to  you.    I  have 
helped  a  good  many  young  men  through  adventures  that 
looked   difficult   enough   beforehand.    Perhaps   you  may 
have  heard  of  me.     I  have  more  names  than  one  ;  but  the 
name  of  Quicksilver  suits  me  as  well  as  any  other.    Tell 
me  what  the  trouble  is,  and  we  will  talk  the  matter  over, 
and  see  what  can  be  done.' 

The  stranger's  words  and  manner  put  Perseus  into 
quite  a  different  mood  from  his  former  one.  He  resolved 
to  tell  Quicksilver  all  his  difficulties,  since  he  could  not 
easily  be  worse  off  than  he  already  was,  and,  very  possibly, 
his  new  friend  might  give  him  some  advice  that  would  turn 
out  well  in  the  end.  So  he  let  the  stranger  know,  in  few 
words,  precisely  what  the  case  was, — how  that  King 
Polydectes  wanted  the  head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky 
locks  as  a  bridal  gift  for  the  beautiful  Princess  Hippodamia, 
and  how  that  he  had  undertaken  to  get  it  for  him,  but  was 
afraid  of  being  turned  into  stone. 

'  And  that  would  be  a  great  pity,'  said  Quicksilver,  with 
his  mischievous  smile.  '  You  would  make  a  very  hand- 
some marble  statue,  it  is  true,  and  it  would  be  a  considerable 
number  of  centuries  before  you  crumbled  away ;  but,  on 
the  whole,  one  would  rather  be  a  young  man  for  a  few 
years,  than  a  stone  image  for  a  great  many.' 

*  Oh,  far  rather  ! '    exclaimed  Perseus,  with  the  tears 
again  standing  in  his  eyes.    *  And,  besides,  what  would 

15 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

my  dear  mother  do,  if  her  beloved  son  were  turned  into  a 
stone  ?  ' 

'  Well,  well,  let  us  hope  that  the  affair  will  not  turn 
out  so  very  badly/  replied  Quicksilver,  in  an  encouraging 
tone.  *  I  am  the  very  person  to  help  you  if  anybody  can. 
My  sister  and  myself  will  do  our  utmost  to  bring  you  safe 
through  the  adventure,  ugly  as  it  now  looks.' 

*  Your  sister  ?  '  repeated  Perseus. 

1  Yes,  my  sister/  said  the  stranger.  *  She  is  very  wise, 
I  promise  you  ;  and  as  for  myself,  I  generally  have  all  my 
wits  about  me,  such  as  they  are.  If  you  show  yourself  bold 
and  cautious,  and  follow  our  advice,  you  need  not  fear  being 
a  stone  image  yet  awhile.  But,  first  of  all,  you  must  polish 
your  shield,  till  you  can  see  your  face  in  it  as  distinctly  as  in 
a  mirror.' 

This  seemed  to  Perseus  rather  an  odd  beginning  of  the 
adventure  ;  for  he  thought  it  of  far  more  consequence 
that  the  shield  should  be  strong  enough  to  defend  him 
from  the  Gorgon's  brazen  claws,  than  that  it  should  be 
bright  enough  to  show  him  the  reflection  of  his  face. 
However,  concluding  that  Quicksilver  knew  better  than 
himself,  he  immediately  set  to  work,  and  scrubbed  the 
shield  with  so  much  diligence  and  good- will,  that  it  very 
quickly  shone  like  the  moon  at  harvest-time.  Quicksilver 
looked  at  it  with  a  smile,  and  nodded  his  approbation. 
Then,  taking  off  his  own  short  and  crooked  sword,  he 
girded  it  about  Perseus,  instead  of  the  one  which  he  had 
before  worn. 

'  No  sword  but  mine  will  answer  your  purpose/ 
observed  he  ;  *  the  blade  has  a  most  excellent  temper,  and 
will  cut  through  iron  and  brass  as  easily  as  through  the 

16 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

slenderest  twig.  And  now  we  will  set  out.  The  next 
thing  is  to  find  the  Three  Gray  Women,  who  will  tell  us 
where  to  find  the  Nymphs.' 

'  The  Three  Gray  Women  ! '  cried  Perseus,  to  whom 
this  seemed  only  a  new  difficulty  in  the  path  of  his  adven- 
ture ;  *  pray  who  may  the  Three  Gray  Women  be  ?  I 
never  heard  of  them  before.' 

'  They  are  three  very  strange  old  ladies,'  said  Quick- 
silver, laughing.  '  They  have  but  one  eye  among  them, 
and  only  one  tooth.  Moreover,  you  must  find  them  out 
by  starlight,  or  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening  ;  for  they  never 
show  themselves  by  the  light  either  of  the  sun  or  moon.' 

*  But,'  said  Perseus,  *  why  should  I  waste  my  time  with 
these  Three  Gray  Women  ?    Would  it  not  be  better  to 
set  out  at  once  in  search  of  the  terrible  Gorgons  ?  ' 

*  No,  no,'  answered  his  friend.    *  There  are  other  things 
to  be  done,  before  you  can  find  your  way  to  the  Gorgons. 
There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  hunt  up  these  old  ladies  ; 
and  when  we  meet  with  them,  you  may  be  sure  that  the 
Gorgons  are  not  a  great  way  off.    Come,  let  us  be  stirring ! ' 

Perseus,  by  this  time,  felt  so  much  confidence  in  his 
companion's  sagacity,  that  he  made  no  more  objections, 
and  professed  himself  ready  to  begin  the  adventure  imme- 
diately. They  accordingly  set  out,  and  walked  at  a  pretty 
brisk  pace  ;  so  brisk,  indeed,  that  Perseus  found  it  rather 
difficult  to  keep  up  with  his  nimble  friend  Quicksilver. 
To  say  the  truth,  he  had  a  singular  idea  that  Quicksilver 
was  furnished  with  a  pair  of  winged  shoes,  which,  of  course, 
helped  him  along  marvellously.  And  then,  too,  when 
Perseus  looked  sideways  at  him,  out  of  the  corner  of  his 

eye,  he  seemed  to  see  wings  on  the  side  of  his  head ; 
c  17 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

although,  if  he  turned  a  full  gaze,  there  were  no  such  things 
to  be  perceived,  but  only  an  odd  kind  of  cap.  But,  at  all 
events,  the  twisted  staff  was  evidently  a  great  convenience 
to  Quicksilver,  and  enabled  him  to  proceed  so  fast,  that 
Perseus,  though  a  remarkably  active  young  man,  began 
to  be  out  of  breath. 

*  Here  !  '   cried  Quicksilver  at  last, — for  he  knew  well 
enough,  rogue  that  he  was,  how  hard  Perseus  found  it  to 
keep  pace  with  him, — *  take  you  the  staff,  for  you  need  it 
a  great  deal  more  than  I.    Are  there  no  better  walkers 
than  yourself  in  the  island  of  Seriphus  ?  ' 

*  I  could  walk  pretty  well/  said  Perseus,  glancing  slyly  at 
his  companion's  feet, '  if  I  had  only  a  pair  of  winged  shoes.' 

*  We  must  see  about  getting  you  a  pair/  answered 
Quicksilver. 

But  the  staff  helped  Perseus  along  so  bravely,  that  he 
no  longer  felt  the  slightest  weariness.  In  fact,  the  stick 
seemed  to  be  alive  in  his  hand,  and  to  lend  some  of  its 
life  to  Perseus.  He  and  Quicksilver  now  walked  onward 
at  their  ease,  talking  very  sociably  together  ;  and  Quick- 
silver told  so  many  pleasant  stories  about  his  former 
adventures,  and  how  well  his  wits  had  served  him  on 
various  occasions,  that  Perseus  began  to  think  him  a  very 
wonderful  person.  He  evidently  knew  the  world  ;  and 
nobody  is  so  charming  to  a  young  man  as  a  friend  who  has 
that  kind  of  knowledge.  Perseus  listened  the  more 
eagerly,  in  the  hope  of  brightening  his  own  wits  by  what 
he  heard. 

At  last,  he  happened  to  recollect  that  Quicksilver  had 
spoken  of  a  sister,  who  was  to  lend  her  assistance  in  the 
adventure  which  they  were  now  bound  upon. 

18 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

4  Where  is  she  ?  '  he  inquired.  *  Shall  we  not  meet 
her  soon  ?  ' 

*  All  at  the  proper  time,'  said  his  companion.    '  But 
this  sister  of  mine,  you  must  understand,  is  quite  a  different 
sort  of  character  from  myself.    She  is  very  grave  and 
prudent,  seldom  smiles,  never  laughs,  and  makes  it  a  rule 
not  to  utter  a  word  unless  she  has  something  particularly 
profound  to  say.    Neither  will  she  listen  to  any  but  the 
wisest  conversation.' 

*  Dear  me  ! '    ejaculated  Perseus  ;    *  I  shall  be  afraid 
to  say  a  syllable.' 

*  She  is  a  very  accomplished  person,  I  assure  you,' 
continued  Quicksilver,  '  and  has  all  the  arts  and  sciences 
at  her  fingers'  ends.    In  short,  she  is  so  immoderately 
wise,  that  many  people  call  her  wisdom  personified.    But, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  she  has  hardly  vivacity  enough  for 
my  taste  ;    and  I  think  you  would  scarcely  find  her  so 
pleasant  a  travelling  companion  as  myself.     She  has  her 
good  points,  nevertheless  ;    and  you  will  find  the  benefit 
of  them,  in  your  encounter  with  the  Gorgons.' 

By  this  time  it  had  grown  quite  dusk.  They  were 
now  come  to  a  very  wild  and  desert  place,  overgrown 
with  shaggy  bushes,  and  so  silent  and  solitary  that  nobody 
seemed  ever  to  have  dwelt  or  journeyed  there.  All  was 
waste  and  desolate,  hi  the  gray  twilight,  which  grew  every 
moment  more  obscure.  Perseus  looked  about  him,  rather 
disconsolately,  and  asked  Quicksilver  whether  they  had 
a  great  deal  farther  to  go. 

'  Hist  !  hist !  '  whispered  his  companion.  c  Make  no 
noise  !  This  is  just  the  time  and  place  to  meet  the  Three 
Gray  Women.  Be  careful  that  they  do  not  see  you  before 

19 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

you  see  them  ;  for,  though  they  have  but  a  single  eye 
among  the  three,  it  is  as  sharp -sighted  as  half  a  dozen 
common  eyes.' 

*  But  what  must  I  do,'  asked  Perseus,  '  when  we  meet 
them  ?  ' 

Quicksilver  explained  to  Perseus  how  the  Three  Gray 
Women  managed  with  their  one  eye.  They  were  in  the 
habit,  it  seems,  of  changing  it  from  one  to  another,  as  if 
it  had  been  a  pair  of  spectacles,  or — which  would  have 
suited  them  better — a  quizzing-glass.  When  one  of  the 
three  had  kept  the  eye  a  certain  time,  she  took  it  out  of 
the  socket  and  passed  it  to  one  of  her  sisters,  whose  turn 
it  might  happen  to  be,  and  who  immediately  clapped  it  into 
her  own  head,  and  enjoyed  a  peep  at  the  visible  world. 
Thus  it  will  easily  be  understood  that  only  one  of  the  Three 
Gray  Women  could  see,  while  the  other  two  were  in  utter 
darkness  ;  and,  moreover,  at  the  instant  when  the  eye  was 
passing  from  hand  to  hand,  neither  of  the  poor  old  ladies 
was  able  to  see  a  wink.  I  have  heard  of  a  great  many 
strange  things  in  my  day,  and  have  witnessed  not  a  few  ; 
but  none,  it  seems  to  me,  that  can  compare  with  the  oddity 
of  these  Three  Gray  Women,  all  peeping  through  a  single 
eye. 

So  thought  Perseus,  likewise,  and  was  so  astonished 
that  he  almost  fancied  his  companion  was  joking  with  him, 
and  that  there  were  no  such  old  women  in  the  world. 

1  You  will  soon  find  whether  I  tell  the  truth  or  no,' 
observed  Quicksilver.  *  Hark  !  hush  !  hist !  hist !  There 
they  come,  now  !  ' 

Perseus  looked  earnestly  through  the  dusk  of  the 
evening,  and  there,  sure  enough,  at  no  great  distance  off, 

20 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

he  descried  the  Three  Gray  Women.  The  light  being  so 
faint,  he  could  not  well  make  out  what  sort  of  figures  they 
were  ;  only  he  discovered  that  they  had  long  gray  hair  ; 
and,  as  they  came  nearer,  he  saw  that  two  of  them  had  but 
the  empty  socket  of  an  eye  in  the  middle  of  their  foreheads. 
But,  in  the  middle  of  the  third  sister's  forehead,  there  was 
a  very  large,  bright,  and  piercing  eye,  which  sparkled  like 
a  great  diamond  in  a  ring  ;  and  so  penetrating  did  it  seem 
to  be,  that  Perseus  could  not  help  thinking  it  must  possess 
the  gift  of  seeing  in  the  darkest  midnight  just  as  perfectly 
as  at  noonday.  The  sight  of  three  persons'  eyes  was 
melted  and  collected  into  that  single  one. 

Thus  the  three  old  dames  got  along  about  as  comfort- 
ably, upon  the  whole,  as  if  they  could  all  see  at  once.  She 
who  chanced  to  have  the  eye  in  her  forehead  led  the  other 
two  by  the  hands,  peeping  sharply  about  her  all  the  while  ; 
insomuch  that  Perseus  dreaded  lest  she  should  see  right 
through  the  thick  clump  of  bushes  behind  which  he  and 
Quicksilver  had  hidden  themselves.  My  stars  !  it  was 
positively  terrible  to  be  within  reach  of  so  very  sharp  an 
eye ! 

But,  before  they  reached  the  clump  of  bushes,  one  of 
the  Three  Gray  Women  spoke. 

*  Sister  !    Sister   Scarecrow  ! '    cried  she,  *  you  have 
had  the  eye  long  enough.    It  is  my  turn  now  ! ' 

*  Let  me  keep  it  a  moment  longer,  Sister  Nightmare/ 
answered   Scarecrow.    *  I   thought   I   had   a  glimpse   of 
something  behind  that  thick  bush.' 

*  Well,     and    what    of    that  ? '    retorted    Nightmare 
peevishly.    *  Can't  I  see  into  a  thick  bush  as  easily  as 
yourself  ?    The  eye  is  mine  as  well  as  yours  ;  and  I  know 

21 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

the  use  of  it  as  well  as  you,  or  may  be  a  little  better.  I 
insist  upon  taking  a  peep  immediately  ! ' 

But  here  the  third  sister,  whose  name  was  Shakejoint, 
began  to  complain,  and  said  that  it  was  her  turn  to  have 
the  eye,  and  that  Scarecrow  and  Nightmare  wanted  to 
keep  it  all  to  themselves.  To  end  the  dispute,  old  Dame 
Scarecrow  took  the  eye  out  of  her  forehead,  and  held  it 
forth  in  her  hand. 

'  Take  it,  one  of  you,'  cried  she,  *  and  quit  this  foolish 
quarrelling.  For  my  part,  I  shall  be  glad  of  a  little  thick 
darkness.  Take  it  quickly,  however,  or  I  must  clap  it 
into  my  own  head  again  !  ' 

Accordingly,  both  Nightmare  and  Shakejoint  put  out 
their  hands,  groping  eagerly  to  snatch  the  eye  out  of  the 
hand  of  Scarecrow.  But,  being  both  alike  blind,  they  could 
not  easily  find  where  Scarecrow's  hand  was  ;  and  Scare- 
crow, being  now  just  as  much  in  the  dark  as  Shakejoint 
and  Nightmare,  could  not  at  once  meet  either  of  their 
hands,  in  order  to  put  the  eye  into  it.  Thus  (as  you  will 
see,  with  half  an  eye,  my  wise  little  auditors),  these  good 
old  dames  had  fallen  into  a  strange  perplexity.  For, 
though  the  eye  shone  and  glistened  like  a  star,  as  Scarecrow 
held  it  out,  yet  the  Gray  Women  caught  not  the  least 
glimpse  of  its  light,  and  were  all  three  in  utter  darkness, 
from  too  impatient  a  desire  to  see. 

Quicksilver  was  so  much  tickled  at  beholding  Shake- 
joint  and  Nightmare  both  groping  for  the  eye,  and  each 
finding  fault  with  Scarecrow  and  one  another,  that  he  could 
scarcely  help  laughing  aloud. 

*  Now  is  your  time !  '  he  whispered  to  Perseus. 
'  Quick,  quick  !  before  they  can  clap  the  eye  into  either 

22 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

of  their  heads.    Rush  out  upon  the  old  ladies,  and  snatch 
it  from  Scarecrow's  hand  !  ' 

In  an  instant,  while  the  Three  Gray  Women  were  still 
scolding  each  other,  Perseus  leaped  from  behind  the  clump 
of  bushes,  and  made  himself  master  of  the  prize.  The 
marvellous  eye,  as  he  held  it  in  his  hand,  shone  very 
brightly,  and  seemed  to  look  up  into  his  face  with  a  knowing 
air,  and  an  expression  as  if  it  would  have  winked,  had  it 
been  provided  with  a  pair  of  eyelids  for  that  purpose.  But 
the  Gray  Women  knew  nothing  of  what  had  happened  ; 
and,  each  supposing  that  one  of  her  sisters  was  in  possession 
of  the  eye,  they  began  their  quarrel  anew.  At  last,  as 
Perseus  did  not  wish  to  put  these  respectable  dames  to 
greater  inconvenience  than  was  really  necessary,  he 
thought  it  right  to  explain  the  matter. 

*  My  good  ladies/  said  he,  *  pray  do  not  be  angry  with 
one  another.    If  anybody  is  in  fault,  it  is  myself ;   for  I 
have  the  honour  to  hold  your  very  brilliant  and  excellent 
eye  in  my  own  hand  ! ' 

*  You  !    you   have   our   eye  !    And   who   are   you  ? ' 
screamed  the  Three  Gray  Women,  all  in  a  breath  ;    for 
they  were  terribly  frightened,  of  course,  at  hearing  a  strange 
voice,  and  discovering  that  their  eyesight  had  got  into  the 
hands  of  they  could  not  guess  whom.    '  Oh,  what  shall  we 
do,  sisters  ?   what  shall  we  do  ?    We  are  all  in  the  dark ! 
Give  us  our  eye  !    Give  us  our  one,  precious,  solitary  eye  ! 
You  have  two  of  your  own  !    Give  us  our  eye  ! ' 

*  Tell  them,'  whispered  Quicksilver  to  Perseus,  c  that 
they  shall  have  back  the  eye  as  soon  as  they  direct  you 
where  to  find  the  Nymphs  who  have  the  flying  slippers,  the 
magic  wallet,  and  the  helmet  of  darkness.' 

23 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

'  My  dear,  good,  admirable  old  ladies,'  said  Perseus, 
addressing  the  Gray  Women,  *  there  is  no  occasion  for 
putting  yourselves  into  such  a  fright.  I  am  by  no  means  a 
bad  young  man.  You  shall  have  back  your  eye,  safe  and 
sound,  and  as  bright  as  ever,  the  moment  you  tell  me  where 
to  find  the  Nymphs.' 

'  The  Nymphs  !  Goodness  me  !  sisters,  what  Nymphs 
does  he  mean  ?  '  screamed  Scarecrow.  '  There  are  a 
great  many  Nymphs,  people  say  ;  some  that  go  a-hunting 
in  the  woods,  and  some  that  live  inside  of  trees,  and  some 
that  have  a  comfortable  home  in  fountains  of  water.  We 
know  nothing  at  all  about  them.  We  are  three  unfortunate 
old  souls,  that  go  wandering  about  in  the  dusk,  and  never 
had  but  one  eye  amongst  us,  and  that  one  you  have  stolen 
away.  Oh,  give  it  back,  good  stranger  ! — whoever  you 
are,  give  it  back  ! ' 

All  this  while  the  Three  Gray  Women  were  groping 
with  their  outstretched  hands,  and  trying  their  utmost 
to  get  hold  of  Perseus.  But  he  took  good  care  to  keep  out 
of  their  reach. 

'  My  respectable  dames,'  said  he, — for  his  mother  had 
taught  him  always  to  use  the  greatest  civility, — '  I  hold 
your  eye  fast  in  my  hand,  and  shall  keep  it  safely  for  you, 
until  you  please  to  tell  me  where  to  find  these  Nymphs. 
The  Nymphs,  I  mean,  who  keep  the  enchanted  wallet, 
the  flying  slippers,  and  the  what  is  it  ? — the  helmet  of 
invisibility.' 

*  Mercy  on  us,  sisters  !  what  is  the  young  man  talking 

about  ?  '  exclaimed  Scarecrow,  Nightmare,  and  Shakejoint, 

one  to  another,  with  great  appearance  of  astonishment. 

A  pair  of  flying  slippers,  quoth  he  !    His  heels  would 

24 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

quickly  fly  higher  than  his  head,  if  he  were  silly  enough 
to  put  them  on.  And  a  helmet  of  invisibility  !  How  could 
a  helmet  make  him  invisible,  unless  it  were  big  enough 
for  him  to  hide  under  it  ?  And  an  enchanted  wallet ! 
What  sort  of  a  contrivance  may  that  be,  I  wonder  ?  No, 
no,  good  stranger  !  we  can  tell  you  nothing  of  these 
marvellous  things.  You  have  two  eyes  of  your  own,  and 
we  have  but  a  single  one  amongst  us  three.  You  can  find 
out  such  wonders  better  than  three  blind  old  creatures, 
like  us.' 

Perseus,  hearing  them  talk  in  this  way,  began  really 
to  think  that  the  Gray  Women  knew  nothing  of  the  matter  ; 
and,  as  it  grieved  him  to  have  put  them  to  so  much  trouble, 
he  was  just  on  the  point  of  restoring  their  eye  and  asking 
pardon  for  his  rudeness  in  snatching  it  away.  But 
Quicksilver  caught  his  hand. 

*  Don't  let  them  make  a  fool  of  you  ! '  said  he.  '  These 
Three  Gray  Women  are  the  only  persons  in  the  world  that 
can  tell  you  where  to  find  the  Nymphs  ;  and,  unless  you 
get  that  information,  you  will  never  succeed  in  cutting  off 
the  head  of  Medusa  writh  the  snaky  locks.  Keep  fast  hold 
of  the  eye,  and  all  will  go  well.' 

As  it  turned  out,  Quicksilver  was  in  the  right.  There 
are  but  few  things  that  people  prize  so  much  as  they  do 
their  eyesight ;  and  the  Gray  Women  valued  their  single 
eye  as  highly  as  if  it  had  been  half  a  dozen,  which  was  the 
number  they  ought  to  have  had.  Finding  that  there  was 
no  other  way  of  recovering  it,  they  at  last  told  Perseus  what 
he  wanted  to  know.  No  sooner  had  they  done  so,  than  he 
immediately,  and  with  the  utmost  respect,  clapped  the 
eye  into  the  vacant  socket  in  one  of  their  foreheads,  thanked 
x>  25 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

them  for  their  kindness,  and  bade  them  farewell.  Before 
the  young  man  was  out  of  hearing,  however,  they  had  got 
into  a  new  dispute,  because  he  happened  to  have  given  the 
eye  to  Scarecrow,  who  had  already  taken  her  turn  of  it 
when  their  trouble  with  Perseus  commenced* 

It  is  greatly  to  be  feared  that  the  Three  Gray  Women 
were  very  much  in  the  habit  of  disturbing  their  mutual 
harmony  by  bickerings  of  this  sort ;  which  was  the  more 
pity,  as  they  could  not  conveniently  do  without  one 
another,  and  were  evidently  intended  to  be  inseparable 
companions.  As  a  general  rule,  I  would  advise  all  people, 
whether  sisters  or  brothers,  old  or  young,  who  chance  to 
have  but  one  eye  amongst  them,  to  cultivate  forbearance, 
and  not  all  insist  upon  peeping  through  it  at  once. 

Quicksilver  and  Perseus,  in  the  meantime,  were  making 
the  best  of  their  way  in  quest  of  the  Nymphs.  The  old 
dames  had  given  them  such  particular  directions,  that  they 
were  not  long  in  rinding  them  out.  They  proved  to  be 
very  different  persons  from  Nightmare,  Shakejoint,  and 
Scarecrow  ;  for,  instead  of  being  old,  they  were  young  and 
beautiful ;  and  instead  of  one  eye  amongst  the  sisterhood, 
each  Nymph  had  two  exceedingly  bright  eyes  of  her  own, 
with  which  she  looked  very  kindly  at  Perseus.  They 
seemed  to  be  acquainted  with  Quicksilver  ;  and,  when  he 
told  them  the  adventure  which  Perseus  had  undertaken, 
they  made  no  difficulty  about  giving  him  the  valuable 
articles  that  were  in  their  custody.  In  the  first  place,  they 
brought  out  what  appeared  to  be  a  small  purse,  made  of 
deer  skin,  and  curiously  embroidered,  and  bade  him  be 
sure  and  keep  it  safe.  This  was  the  magic  wallet.  The 
Nymphs  next  produced  a  pair  of  shoes,  or  slippers,  or 

26 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

sandals,  with  a  nice  little  pair  of  wings  at  the  heel  of 
each. 

*  Put  them  on,  Perseus/  said  Quicksilver.  '  You  will 
find  yourself  as  light-heeled  as  you  can  desire  for  the 
remainder  of  our  journey.' 

So  Perseus  proceeded  to  put  one  of  the  slippers  on, 
while  he  laid  the  other  on  the  ground  by  his  side.  Un- 
expectedly, however,  this  other  slipper  spread  its  wings, 
fluttered  up  off  the  ground,  and  would  probably  have  flown 
away,  if  Quicksilver  had  not  made  a  leap,  and  luckily 
caught  it  in  the  air. 

'  Be  more  careful,'  said  he,  as  he  gave  it  back  to  Perseus. 
'  It  would  frighten  the  birds,  up  aloft,  if  they  should  see  a 
flying  slipper  amongst  them.' 

When  Perseus  had  got  on  both  of  these  wonderful 
slippers,  he  was  altogether  too  buoyant  to  tread  on  earth. 
Making  a  step  or  two,  lo  and  behold  !  upward  he  popped 
into  the  air,  high  above  the  heads  of  Quicksilver  and  the 
Nymphs,  and  found  it  very  difficult  to  clamber  down  again. 
Winged  slippers,  and  all  such  high-flying  contrivances,  are 
seldom  quite  easy  to  manage  until  one  grows  a  little  accus- 
tomed to  them.  Quicksilver  laughed  at  his  companion's 
involuntary  activity,  and  told  him  that  he  must  not  be  in 
so  desperate  a  hurry,  but  must  wait  for  the  invisible  helmet. 

The  good-natured  Nymphs  had  the  helmet,  with  its 
dark  tuft  of  waving  plumes,  all  in  readiness  to  put  upon 
his  head.  And  now  there  happened  about  as  wonderful 
an  incident  as  anything  that  I  have  yet  told  you.  The 
instant  before  the  helmet  was  put  on,  there  stood  Perseus, 
a  beautiful  young  man,  with  golden  ringlets  and  rosy 

cheeks,  the  crooked  sword  by  his  side,  and  the  brightly 

2*7 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

polished  shield  upon  his  arm, — a  figure  that  seemed  all 
made  up  of  courage,  sprightliness,  and  glorious  light. 
But  when  the  helmet  had  descended  over  his  white  brow, 
there  was  no  longer  any  Perseus  to  be  seen  !  Nothing  but 
empty  air  !  Even  the  helmet,  that  covered  him  with  its 
invisibility,  had  vanished  ! 

*  Where  are  you,  Perseus  ?  '  asked  Quicksilver. 

*  Why,  here,   to  be  sure  ! '    answered  Perseus,  very 
quietly,  although  his  voice  seemed  to  come  out  of  the 
transparent  atmosphere.    *  Just  where  I  was  a  moment 
ago.    Don't  you  see  me  ?  ' 

*  No,  indeed  !  '  answered  his  friend.    *  You  are  hidden 
under  the  helmet.    But,  if  I  cannot  see  you,  neither  can 
the  Gorgons.    Follow  me,  therefore,  and  we  will  try  your 
dexterity  in  using  the  winged  slippers.' 

With  these  words,  Quicksilver's  cap  spread  its  wings, 
as  if  his  head  were  about  to  fly  away  from  his  shoulders  ; 
but  his  whole  figure  rose  lightly  into  the  air,  and  Perseus 
followed.  By  the  time  they  had  ascended  a  few  hundred 
feet,  the  young  man  began  to  feel  what  a  delightful  thing 
it  was  to  leave  the  dull  earth  so  far  beneath  him,  and  to  be 
able  to  flit  about  like  a  bird. 

It  was  now  deep  night.  Perseus  looked  upward,  and 
saw  the  round,  bright,  silvery  moon,  and  thought  that  he 
should  desire  nothing  better  than  to  soar  up  thither,  and 
spend  his  life  there.  Then  he  looked  downward  again, 
and  saw  the  earth,  with  its  seas  and  lakes,  and  the  silver 
courses  of  its  rivers,  and  its  snowy  mountain-peaks,  and 
the  breadth  of  its  fields,  and  the  dark  cluster  of  its  woods, 
and  its  cities  of  white  marble  ;  and,  with  the  moonshine 
sleeping  over  the  whole  scene,  it  was  as  beautiful  as  the 

28 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

moon  or  any  star  could  be.  And,  among  other  objects,  he 
saw  the  island  of  Seriphus,  where  his  dear  mother  was. 
Sometimes  he  and  Quicksilver  approached  a  cloud,  that, 
at  a  distance,  looked  as  if  it  were  made  of  fleecy  silver  ; 
although,  when  they  plunged  into  it,  they  found  themselves 
chilled  and  moistened  with  gray  mist.  So  swift  was  their 
flight,  however,  that,  in  an  instant,  they  emerged  from  the 
cloud  into  the  moonlight  again.  Once,  a  high-soaring 
eagle  flew  right  against  the  invisible  Perseus.  The  bravest 
sights  were  the  meteors,  that  gleamed  suddenly  out,  as  if 
a  bonfire  had  been  kindled  in  the  sky,  and  made  the  moon- 
shine pale  for  as  much  as  a  hundred  miles  around  them. 

As  the  two  companions  flew  onward,  Perseus  fancied 
that  he  could  hear  the  rustle  of  a  garment  close  by  his  side  ; 
and  it  was  on  the  side  opposite  to  the  one  where  he  beheld 
Quicksilver,  yet  only  Quicksilver  was  visible. 

*  Whose  garment  is  this,'  inquired  Perseus, '  that  keeps 
rustling  close  beside  me  in  the  breeze  ?  ' 

*  Oh,  it  is  my  sister's  !  '  answered  Quicksilver.    *  She 
is  coming  along  with  us,  as  I  told  you  she  would.    We 
could  do  nothing  without  the  help  of  my  sister.    You  have 
no  idea  how  wise  she  is.    She  has  such  eyes,  too  !    Why, 
she  can  see  you,  at  this  moment,  just  as  distinctly  as  if 
you  were  not  invisible  ;   and  I  '11  venture  to  say,  she  will 
be  the  first  to  discover  the  Gorgons.' 

By  this  time,  in  their  swift  voyage  through  the  air,  they 
had  come  within  sight  of  the  great  ocean,  and  were  soon 
flying  over  it.  Far  beneath  them,  the  waves  tossed  them- 
selves tumultuously  in  mid-sea,  or  rolled  a  white  surf- 
line  upon  the  long  beaches,  or  foamed  against  the  rocky 
cliffs,  with  a  roar  that  was  thunderous,  in  the  lower  world  ; 

29 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

although  it  became  a  gentle  murmur,  like  the  voice  of  a 
baby  half  asleep,  before  it  reached  the  ears  of  Perseus. 
Just  then  a  voice  spoke  in  the  air  close  by  him.  It  seemed 
to  be  a  woman's  voice,  and  was  melodious,  though  not 
exactly  what  might  be  called  sweet,  but  grave  and  mild. 

*  Perseus,'  said  the  voice,  *  there  are  the  Gorgons.' 

*  Where  ?  '  exclaimed  Perseus.    *  I  cannot  see  them.' 

*  On  the  shore  of  that  island  beneath  you,'  replied  the 
voice.    *  A  pebble,  dropped  from  your  hand,  would  strike 
in  the  midst  of  them.' 

*  I  told  you  she  would  be  the  first  to  discover  them,' 
said  Quicksilver  to  Perseus.    *  And  there  they  are  !  ' 

Straight  downward,  two  or  three  thousand  feet  below 
him,  Perseus  perceived  a  small  island,  with  the  sea  breaking 
into  white  foam  all  around  its  rocky  shore,  except  on  one 
side,  where  there  was  a  beach  of  snowy  sand.  He  de- 
scended towards  it,  and,  looking  earnestly  at  a  cluster  or 
heap  of  brightness,  at  the  foot  of  a  precipice  of  black  rocks, 
behold,  there  were  the  terrible  Gorgons  !  They  lay  fast 
asleep,  soothed  by  the  thunder  of  the  sea  ;  for  it  required 
a  tumult  that  would  have  deafened  everybody  else  to  lull 
such  fierce  creatures  into  slumber.  The  moonlight  glis- 
tened on  their  steely  scales,  and  on  their  golden  wings, 
which  drooped  idly  over  the  sand.  Their  brazen  claws, 
horrible  to  look  at,  were  thrust  out,  and  clutched  the  wave- 
beaten  fragments  of  rock,  while  the  sleeping  Gorgons 
dreamed  of  tearing  some  poor  mortal  all  to  pieces.  The 
snakes  that  served  them  instead  of  hair  seemed  likewise  to  be 
asleep  ;  although,  now  and  then,  one  would  writhe,  and  lift 
its  head,  and  thrust  out  its  forked  tongue,  emitting  a  drowsy 
hiss,  and  then  let  itself  subside  among  its  sister  snakes. 

30 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

The  Gorgons  were  more  like  an  awful,  gigantic  kind 
of  insect, — immense,  golden- winged  beetles,  or  dragon- 
flies,  or  things  of  that  sort, — at  once  ugly  and  beautiful, — 
than  like  anything  else  ;  only  that  they  were  a  thousand 
and  a  million  times  as  big.  And,  with  all  this,  there  was 
something  partly  human  about  them,  too.  Luckily  for 
Perseus,  their  faces  were  completely  hidden  from  him  by  the 
posture  in  which  they  lay  ;  for,  had  he  but  looked  one 
instant  at  them,  he  would  have  fallen  heavily  out  of  the  air, 
an  image  of  senseless  stone. 

*  Now,'  whispered  Quicksilver,  as  he  hovered  by  the  side 
of  Perseus, — *  now  is  your  time  to  do  the  deed  !    Be  quick  ; 
for,  if  one  of  the  Gorgons  should  awake,  you  are  too  late  ! ' 

*  Which  shall  I  strike  at  ?  '   asked  Perseus,  drawing  his 
sword  and  descending  a  little  lower.     *  They  all  three 
look  alike.    All  three  have  snaky  locks.    Which  of  the 
three  is  Medusa  ? ' 

It  must  be  understood  that  Medusa  was  the  only  one 
of  these  dragon-monsters  whose  head  Perseus  could 
possibly  cut  off.  As  for  the  other  two,  let  him  have  the 
sharpest  sword  that  ever  was  forged,  and  he  might  have 
hacked  away  by  the  hour  together,  without  doing  them 
the  least  harm. 

*  Be  cautious/  said  the  calm  voice  which  had  before 
spoken  to  him.    '  One  of  the  Gorgons  is  stirring  in  her  sleep 
and  is  just  about  to  turn  over.    That  is  Medusa.    Do  not 
look  at  her  !    The  sight  would  turn  you  to  stone  !    Look 
at  the  reflection  of  her  face  and  figure  in  the  bright  mirror 
of  your  shield.' 

Perseus  now  understood  Quicksilver's  motive  for  so 
earnestly  exhorting  him  to  polish  his  shield.  In  its  surface 

3' 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

he  could  safely  look  at  the  reflection  of  the  Gorgon's  face. 
And  there  it  was, — that  terrible  countenance, — mirrored  in 
the  brightness  of  the  shield,  with  the  moonlight  falling  over 
it,  and  displaying  all  its  horror.  The  snakes,  whose 
venomous  natures  could  not  altogether  sleep,  kept  twisting 
themselves  over  the  forehead.  It  was  the  fiercest  and 
most  horrible  face  that  ever  was  seen  or  imagined,  and  yet 
with  a  strange,  fearful,  and  savage  kind  of  beauty  in  it. 
The  eyes  were  closed,  and  the  Gorgon  was  still  in  a  deep 
slumber  ;  but  there  was  an  unquiet  expression  disturbing 
her  features,  as  if  the  monster  was  troubled  with  an  ugly 
dream.  She  gnashed  her  white  tusks,  and  dug  into  the 
sand  with  her  brazen  claws. 

The  snakes,  too,  seemed  to  feel  Medusa's  dream,  and 
to  be  made  more  restless  by  it.  They  twined  themselves 
into  tumultuous  knots,  writhed  fiercely,  and  uplifted  a 
hundred  hissing  heads,  without  opening  their  eyes. 

'  Now,  now  !  '  whispered  Quicksilver,  who  was  growing 
impatient.  *  Make  a  dash  at  the  monster  !  ' 

c  But  be  calm,'  said  the  grave,  melodious  voice,  at  the 
young  man's  side.  *  Look  in  your  shield,  as  you  fly  down- 
ward, and  take  care  that  you  do  not  miss  your  first  stroke.' 

Perseus  flew  cautiously  downward,  still  keeping  his 
eyes  on  Medusa's  face,  as  reflected  in  his  shield.  The 
nearer  he  came,  the  more  terrible  did  the  snaky  visage  and 
metallic  body  of  the  monster  grow.  At  last,  when  he 
found  himself  hovering  over  her  within  arm's  length, 
Perseus  uplifted  his  sword,  while  at  the  same  instant, 
each  separate  snake  upon  the  Gorgon's  head  stretched 
threateningly  upward,  and  Medusa  unclosed  her  eyes. 
But  she  awoke  too  late.  The  sword  was  sharp  ;  the  stroke 

32 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

fell  like  a  lightning-flash  ;  and  the  head  of  the  wicked 
Medusa  tumbled  from  her  body  ! 

'  Admirably  done  ! '  cried  Quicksilver.  '  Make  haste, 
and  clap  the  head  into  your  magic  wallet.' 

To  the  astonishment  of  Perseus,  the  small,  embroidered 
wallet,  which  he  had  hung  about  his  neck,  and  which  had 
hitherto  been  no  bigger  than  a  purse,  grew  all  at  once  large 
enough  to  contain  Medusa's  head.  As  quick  as  thought, 
he  snatched  it  up,  with  the  snakes  still  writhing  upon  it, 
and  thrust  it  in. 

*  Your  task  is  done,'  said  the  calm  voice.  '  Now  fly  ; 
for  the  other  Gorgons  will  do  their  utmost  to  take  vengeance 
for  Medusa's  death.' 

It  was,  indeed,  necessary  to  take  flight ;  for  Perseus 
had  not  done  the  deed  so  quietly  but  that  the  clash  of  his 
sword,  and  the  hissing  of  the  snakes,  and  the  thump  of 
Medusa's  head  as  it  tumbled  upon  the  sea-beaten  sand, 
awoke  the  other  two  monsters.  There  they  sat,  for  an 
instant,  sleepily  rubbing  their  eyes  with  their  brazen  fingers, 
while  all  the  snakes  on  their  heads  reared  themselves  on 
end  with  surprise,  and  with  venomous  malice  against  they 
knew  not  what.  But  when  the  Gorgons  saw  the  scaly 
carcass  of  Medusa,  headless,  and  her  golden  wings  all 
ruffled,  and  half  spread  out  on  the  sand,  it  was  really  awful 
to  hear  what  yells  and  screeches  they  set  up.  And  then 
the  snakes  !  They  sent  forth  a  hundred-fold  hiss,  with  one 
consent,  and  Medusa's  snakes  answered  them  out  of  the 
magic  wallet. 

No  sooner  were  the  Gorgons  broad  awake  than  they 
hurtled  upward  into  the  air,  brandishing  their  brass  talons, 
gnashing  their  horrible  tusks,  and  flapping  their  huge 

*  33 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

wings  so  wildly,  that  some  of  the  golden  feathers  were 
shaken  out,  and  floated  down  upon  the  shore.  And  there, 
perhaps,  those  very  feathers  lie  scattered,  till  this  day. 
Up  rose  the  Gorgons,  as  I  tell  you,  staring  horribly  about, 
in  hopes  of  turning  somebody  to  stone.  Had  Perseus 
looked  them  in  the  face,  or  had  he  fallen  into  their  clutches, 
his  poor  mother  would  never  have  kissed  her  boy  again  ! 
But  he  took  good  care  to  turn  his  eyes  another  way  ;  and, 
as  he  wore  the  helmet  of  invisibility,  the  Gorgons  knew  not 
in  what  direction  to  follow  him  ;  nor  did  he  fail  to  make 
the  best  use  of  the  winged  slippers,  by  soaring  upward  a 
perpendicular  mile  or  so.  At  that  height,  when  the 
screams  of  those  abominable  creatures  sounded  faintly 
beneath  him,  he  made  a  straight  course  for  the  island  of 
Seriphus,  in  order  to  carry  Medusa's  head  to  King 
Polydectes. 

I  have  no  time  to  tell  you  of  several  marvellous  things 
that  befell  Perseus  on  his  way  homeward  ;  such  as  his 
killing  a  hideous  sea-monster,  just  as  it  was  on  the  point 
of  devouring  a  beautiful  maiden  ;  nor  how  he  changed  an 
enormous  giant  into  a  mountain  of  stone,  merely  by  show- 
ing him  the  head  of  the  Gorgon.  If  you  doubt  this  latter 
story,  you  may  make  a  voyage  to  Africa,  some  day  or  other, 
and  see  the  very  mountain,  which  is  still  known  by  the 
ancient  giant's  name. 

Finally  our  brave  Perseus  arrived  at  the  island,  where 
he  expected  to  see  his  dear  mother.  But,  during  his 
absence,  the  wicked  king  had  treated  Danae  so  very  ill 
that  she  was  compelled  to  make  her  escape,  and  had  taken 
refuge  in  a  temple,  where  some  good  old  priests  were 
extremely  kind  to  her.  These  praiseworthy  priests,  and 

34 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

the  kind-hearted  fisherman,  who  had  first  shown  hospitality 
to  Danae  and  little  Perseus  when  he  found  them  afloat  in 
the  chest,  seem  to  have  been  the  only  persons  on  the  island 
who  cared  about  doing  right.  All  the  rest  of  the  people, 
as  well  as  King  Polydectes  himself,  were  remarkably  ill- 
behaved,  and  deserved  no  better  destiny  than  that  which 
was  now  to  happen. 

Not  finding  his  mother  at  home,  Perseus  went  straight 
to  the  palace,  and  was  immediately  ushered  into  the 
presence  of  the  king.  Polydectes  was  by  no  means 
rejoiced  to  see  him  ;  for  he  had  felt  almost  certain  in  his 
own  evil  mind,  that  the  Gorgons  would  have  torn  the  poor 
young  man  to  pieces,  and  have  eaten  him  up,  out  of  the 
way.  However,  seeing  him  safely  returned,  he  put  the 
best  face  he  could  upon  the  matter  and  asked  Perseus  how 
he  had  succeeded. 

*  Have  you  performed  your  promise  ? '    inquired  he. 

*  Have  you  brought  me  the  head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky 
locks  ?    If  not,  young  man,  it  will  cost  you  dear  ;   for  I 
must  have   a  bridal   present  for  the  beautiful   Princess 
Hippodamia,  and  there  is  nothing  else  that  she  would 
admire  so  much.' 

1  Yes,  please  your  Majesty,'  answered  Perseus,  in  a 
quiet  way,  as  if  it  were  no  very  wonderful  deed  for  such  a 
young  man  as  he  to  perform.  *  I  have  brought  you  the 
Gorgon's  head,  snaky  locks  and  all ! ' 

1  Indeed  !    Pray  let  me  see  it,'  quoth  King  Polydectes 

*  It  must  be  a  very  curious  spectacle,  if  all  that  travellers 
tell  about  it  be  true  !  ' 

'  Your  Majesty  is  in  the  right,'  replied  Perseus.  '  It 
is  really  an  object  that  will  be  pretty  certain  to  fix  the 

35 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

regards  of  all  who  look  at  it.  And,  if  your  Majesty  think 
fit,  I  would  suggest  that  a  holiday  be  proclaimed,  and  that 
all  your  Majesty's  subjects  be  summoned  to  behold  this 
wonderful  curiosity.  Few  of  them,  I  imagine,  have  seen  a 
Gorgon's  head  before,  and  perhaps  never  may  again  ! ' 

The  king  well  knew  that  his  subjects  were  an  idle  set  of 
reprobates,  and  very  fond  of  sight-seeing,  as  idle  persons 
usually  are.  So  he  took  the  young  man's  advice,  and  sent 
out  heralds  and  messengers,  in  all  directions,  to  blow  the 
trumpet  at  the  street  corners,  and  in  the  market-places, 
and  wherever  two  roads  met,  and  summon  everybody  to 
court.  Thither,  accordingly,  came  a  great  multitude  of 
good-for-nothing  vagabonds,  all  of  whom,  out  of  pure 
love  of  mischief,  would  have  been  glad  if  Perseus  had  met 
with  some  ill-hap  in  his  encounter  with  the  Gorgons.  If 
there  were  any  better  people  in  the  island  (as  I  really  hope 
there  may  have  been,  although  the  story  tells  nothing 
about  any  such),  they  stayed  quietly  at  home,  minding 
their  business,  and  taking  care  of  their  little  children. 
Most  of  the  inhabitants,  at  all  events,  ran  as  fast  as  they 
could  to  the  palace,  and  shoved,  and  pushed,  and  elbowed 
one  another,  in  their  eagerness  to  get  near  a  balcony,  on 
which  Perseus  showed  himself,  holding  the  embroidered 
wallet  in  his  hand. 

On  a  platform,  within  full  view  of  the  balcony,  sat  the 
mighty  King  Polydectes,  amid  his  evil  counsellors,  and 
with  his  flattering  courtiers  in  a  semicircle  round  about 
him.  Monarch,  counsellors,  courtiers,  and  subjects,  all 
gazed  eagerly  towards  Perseus. 

*  Show  us  the  head  !  Show  us  the  head  !  '  shouted 
the  people  ;  and  there  was  a  fierceness  in  their  cry  as  if 

36 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

they  would  tear  Perseus  to  pieces,  unless  he  should  satisfy 
them  with  what  he  had  to  show.  *  Show  us  the  head  of 
Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks  !  * 

A  feeling  of  sorrow  and  pity  came  over  the  youthful 
Perseus. 

*  O  King  Polydectes,'  cried  he,  '  and  ye  many  people, 
I  am  very  loath  to  show  you  the  Gorgon's  head  ! ' 

*  Ah,  the  villain  and  coward  !  '  yelled  the  people,  more 
fiercely  than  before.    *  He  is  making  game  of  us  !    He  has 
no  Gorgon's  head  !     Show  us  the  head,  if  you  have  it,  or 
we  will  take  your  own  head  for  a  football ! ' 

The  evil  counsellors  whispered  bad  advice  in  the  king's 
ear ;  the  courtiers  murmured,  with  one  consent,  that 
Perseus  had  shown  disrespect  to  their  royal  lord  and 
master  ;  and  the  great  King  Polydectes  himself  waved  his 
hand,  and  ordered  him,  with  the  stern,  deep  voice  of 
authority,  on  his  peril,  to  produce  the  head. 

*  Show  me  the  Gorgon's  head,  or  I  will  cut  off  your  own ! ' 
And  Perseus  sighed. 

*  This  instant,'  repeated  Polydectes,  *  or  you  die  ! ' 

'  Behold  it,  then  !  '  cried  Perseus,  in  a  voice  like  the 
blast  of  a  trumpet. 

And,  suddenly  holding  up  the  head,  not  an  eyelid  had 
time  to  wink  before  the  wicked  King  Polydectes,  his  evil 
counsellors,  and  all  his  fierce  subjects  were  no  longer 
anything  but  the  mere  images  of  a  monarch  and  his  people. 
They  were  all  fixed  for  ever,  in  the  look  and  attitude  of  that 
moment !  At  the  first  glimpse  of  the  terrible  head  of  Medusa, 
they  whitened  into  marble  !  And  Perseus  thrust  the  head 
back  into  his  wallet,  and  went  to  tell  his  dear  mother  that 
she  need  no  longer  be  afraid  of  the  wicked  King  Polydectes. 

37 


TANGLEWOOD    PORCH 

AFTER  THE  STORY 


"W  "IT  TAS  not  that  a  very  fine  story  ?  '  asked  Eustace. 

% l\l  *  Oh  yes,  yes  !  '  cried  Cowslip,  clapping  her 
1  T  hands.  '  And  those  funny  old  women,  with 
only  one  eye  amongst  them  !  I  never  heard  of  anything 
so  strange.' 

€  As  to  their  one  tooth,  which  they  shifted  about,' 
observed  Primrose,  *  there  was  nothing  so  very  wonderful 
in  that.  I  suppose  it  was  a  false  tooth.  But  think  of  your 
turning  Mercury  into  Quicksilver,  and  talking  about  his 
sister  1  You  are  too  ridiculous  ! ' 

*  And  was  she  not  his  sister  ? '  asked  Eustace  Bright. 
'  If  I  had  thought  of  it  sooner,  I  would  have  described 
her  as  a  maiden  lady,  who  kept  a  pet  owl ! ' 

c  Well,  at  any  rate,'  said  Primrose,  *  your  story  seems 
to  have  driven  away  the  mist.' 

And,  indeed,  while  the  tale  was  going  forward,  the 
vapours  had  been  quite  exhaled  from  the  landscape.  A 
scene  was  now  disclosed  which  the  spectators  might  almost 

38 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD 

fancy  as  having  been  created  since  they  had  last  looked  in 
the  direction  where  it  lay.  About  half  a  mile  distant,  in 
the  lap  of  the  valley,  now  appeared  a  beautiful  lake,  which 
reflected  a  perfect  image  of  its  own  wooded  banks,  and  of 
the  summits  of  the  more  distant  hills.  It  gleamed  in  glassy 
tranquillity,  without  the  trace  of  a  winged  breeze  on  any 
part  of  its  bosom.  Beyond  its  farther  shore  was  Monument 
Mountain,  in  a  recumbent  position,  stretching  almost 
across  the  valley.  Eustace  Bright  compared  it  to  a  huge, 
headless  Sphinx,  wrapped  in  a  Persian  shawl ;  and,  indeed, 
so  rich  and  diversified  was  the  autumnal  foliage  of  its  woods, 
that  the  simile  of  the  shawl  was  by  no  means  too  high- 
coloured  for  the  reality.  In  the  lower  ground,  between 
Tanglewood  and  the  lake,  the  clumps  of  trees  and  borders 
of  woodland  were  chiefly  golden-leaved  or  dusky  brown, 
as  having  suffered  more  from  frost  than  the  foliage  on  the 
hill-sides. 

Over  all  this  scene  there  was  a  genial  sunshine,  inter- 
mingled with  a  slight  haze,  which  made  it  unspeakably 
soft  and  tender.  Oh,  what  a  day  of  Indian  summer  was 
it  going  to  be  !  The  children  snatched  their  baskets,  and 
set  forth,  with  hop,  skip,  and  jump,  and  all  sorts  of  frisks 
and  gambols  ;  while  Cousin  Eustace  proved  his  fitness  to 
preside  over  the  party  by  outdoing  all  their  antics,  and 
performing  several  new  capers,  which  none  of  them  could 
ever  hope  to  imitate.  Behind  went  a  good  old  dog,  whose 
name  was  Ben.  He  was  one  of  the  most  respectable  and 
kind-hearted  of  quadrupeds,  and  probably  felt  it  to  be  his 
duty  not  to  trust  the  children  away  from  their  parents 
without  some  better  guardian  than  this  feather-brained 
Eustace  Bright. 

39 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 


SHADOW  BROOK 

INTRODUCTORY  TO 
'THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH' 


A  noon,  our  juvenile  party  assembled  in  a  dell, 
through  the  depths  of  which  ran  a  little  brook. 
The  dell  was  narrow,  and  its  steep  sides,  from 
the  margin  of  the  stream  upward,  were  thickly  set  with 
trees,  chiefly  walnuts  and  chestnuts,  among  which  grew  a 
few  oaks  and  maples.  In  the  summer  time,  the  shade  of 
so  many  clustering  branches,  meeting  and  intermingling 
across  the  rivulet,  was  deep  enough  to  produce  a  noontide 
twilight.  Hence  came  the  name  of  Shadow  Brook.  But 
now,  ever  since  autumn  had  crept  into  this  secluded  place, 
all  the  dark  verdure  was  changed  to  gold,  so  that  it  really 
kindled  up  the  dell,  instead  of  shading  it.  The  bright 

43 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

yellow  leaves,  even  had  it  been  a  cloudy  day,  would  have 
seemed  to  keep  the  sunlight  among  them  ;  and  enough  of 
them  had  fallen  to  strew  all  the  bed  and  margin  of  the 
brook  with  sunlight  too.  Thus  the  shady  nook,  where 
summer  had  cooled  herself,  was  now  the  sunniest  spot 
anywhere  to  be  found. 

The  little  brook  ran  along  over  its  pathway  of  gold, 
here  pausing  to  form  a  pool,  in  which  minnows  were 
darting  to  and  fro  ;  and  then  it  hurried  onward  at  a 
swifter  pace,  as  if  in  haste  to  reach  the  lake  ;  and,  forgetting 
to  look  whither  it  went,  it  tumbled  over  the  root  of  a  tree, 
which  stretched  quite  across  its  current.  You  would  have 
laughed  to  hear  how  noisily  it  babbled  about  this  accident. 
And  even  after  it  had  run  onward,  the  brook  still  kept 
talking  to  itself,  as  if  it  were  in  a  maze.  It  was  wonder- 
smitten,  I  suppose,  at  finding  its  dark  dell  so  illuminated, 
and  at  hearing  the  prattle  and  merriment  of  so  many 
children.  So  it  stole  away  as  quickly  as  it  could,  and  hid 
itself  in  the  lake. 

In  the  dell  of  Shadow  Brook,  Eustace  Bright  and  his 
little  friends  had  eaten  their  dinner.  They  had  brought 
plenty  of  good  things  from  Tanglewood,  in  their  baskets, 
and  had  spread  them  out  on  the  stumps  of  trees,  and  on 
mossy  trunks,  and  had  feasted  merrily,  and  made  a  very 
nice  dinner  indeed.  After  it  was  over,  nobody  felt  like 
stirring. 

c  We  will  rest  ourselves  here,'  said  several  of  the 
children,  '  while  Cousin  Eustace  tells  us  another  of  his 
pretty  stories.' 

Cousin  Eustace  had  a  good  right  to  be  tired,  as  well 
as  the  children,  for  he  had  performed  great  feats  on  that 

44 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

memorable  forenoon.  Dandelion,  Clover,  Cowslip,  and 
Buttercup  were  almost  persuaded  that  he  had  winged 
slippers,  like  those  which  the  Nymphs  gave  Perseus  ;  so 
often  had  the  student  shown  himself  at  the  tiptop  of  a  nut- 
tree,  when  only  a  moment  before  he  had  been  standing  on 
the  ground.  And  then,  what  showers  of  walnuts  had  he 
sent  rattling  down  upon  their  heads,  for  their  busy  little 
hands  to  gather  into  the  baskets  !  In  short,  he  had  been 
as  active  as  a  squirrel  or  a  monkey,  and  now,  flinging  him- 
self down  on  the  yellow  leaves,  seemed  inclined  to  take  a 
little  rest. 

But  children  have  no  mercy  nor  consideration  for 
anybody's  weariness  ;  and  if  you  had  but  a  single  breath 
left,  they  would  ask  you  to  spend  it  in  telling  them  a  story. 

'  Cousin  Eustace/  said  Cowslip,  *  that  was  a  very  nice 
story  of  the  Gorgon's  Head.  Do  you  think  you  could  tell 
us  another  as  good  ?  ' 

*  Yes,  child/  said  Eustace,  pulling  the  brim  of  his  cap 
over  his  eyes,  as  if  preparing  for  a  nap.    '  I  can  tell  you  a 
dozen,  as  good  or  better,  if  I  choose.' 

*  O  Primrose  and  Periwinkle,  do  you  hear  what  he 
says  ? '    cried   Cowslip,   dancing  with  delight.    *  Cousin 
Eustace  is  going  to  tell  us  a  dozen  better  stories  than  that 
about  the  Gorgon's  Head  ! ' 

*  I  did  not  promise  you  even  one,  you  foolish  little 
Cowslip  ! '     said   Eustace,   half  pettishly.    *  However,   I 
suppose  you  must  have  it.    This  is  the  consequence  of 
having  earned  a  reputation  !     I  wish  I  were  a  great  deal 
duller  than  I  am,  or  that  I  had  never  shown  half  the  bright 
qualities  with  which  nature  has  endowed  me  ;   and  then  I 
might  have  my  nap  out,  in  peace  and  comfort ! ' 

4* 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

But  Cousin  Eustace,  as  I  think  I  have  hinted  before, 
was  as  fond  of  telling  his  stories  as  the  children  of  hearing 
them.  His  mind  was  in  a  free  and  happy  state,  and  took 
delight  in  its  own  activity,  and  scarcely  required  any 
external  impulse  to  set  it  at  work. 

How  different  is  this  spontaneous  play  of  the  intellect 
from  the  trained  diligence  of  maturer  years,  when  toil  has 
perhaps  grown  easy  by  long  habit,  and  the  day's  work 
may  have  become  essential  to  the  day's  comfort,  although 
the  rest  of  the  matter  has  bubbled  away  !  This  remark, 
however,  is  not  meant  for  the  children  to  hear. 

Without  further  solicitation,  Eustace  Bright  proceeded 
to  tell  the  following  really  splendid  story.  It  had  come 
into  his  mind  as  he  lay  looking  upward  into  the  depths  of 
a  tree,  and  observing  how  the  touch  of  Autumn  had  trans- 
muted every  one  of  its  green  leaves  into  what  resembled 
the  purest  gold.  And  this  change,  which  we  have  all  of 
us  witnessed,  is  as  wonderful  as  anything  that  Eustace  told 
about  in  the  story  of  Midas. 


THE   GOLDEN   TOUCH 


ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  very  rich  man,  and 
a  king  besides,  whose  name  was  Midas  ;  and  he 
had  a  little  daughter,  whom  nobody  but  myself 
ever  heard  of,  and  whose  name  I  either  never  knew,  or  have 
entirely  forgotten.    So,  because  I  love  odd  names  for  little 
girls,  I  choose  to  call  her  Marygold. 

This  King  Midas  was  fonder  of  gold  than  of  anything 
else  in  the  world.  He  valued  his  royal  crown  chiefly 
because  it  was  composed  of  that  precious  metal.  If  he 
loved  anything  better,  or  half  so  well,  it  was  the  one  little 
maiden  who  played  so  merrily  around  her  father's  footstool. 
But  the  more  Midas  loved  his  daughter,  the  more  did  he 
desire  and  seek  for  wealth.  He  thought,  foolish  man  ! 
that  the  best  thing  he  could  possibly  do  for  this  dear  child 
would  be  to  bequeath  her  the  immensest  pile  of  yellow, 
glistening  coin,  that  had  ever  been  heaped  together  since 
the  world  was  made.  Thus,  he  gave  all  his  thoughts  and 
all  his  time  to  this  one  purpose.  If  ever  he  happened  to 
gaze  for  an  instant  at  the  gold-tinted  clouds  of  sunset,  he 
wished  that  they  were  real  gold,  and  that  they  could  be 

47 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

squeezed  safely  into  his  strong  box.  When  little  Marygold 
ran  to  meet  him,  with  a  bunch  of  buttercups  and  dande- 
lions, he  used  to  say,  *  Poh,  poh,  child  !  If  these  flowers 
were  as  golden  as  they  look  they  would  be  worth  the 
plucking  !  ' 

And  yet,  in  his  earlier  days,  before  he  was  so  entirely 
possessed  of  this  insane  desire  for  riches,  King  Midas  had 
shown  a  great  taste  for  flowers.  He  had  planted  a  garden, 
in  which  grew  the  biggest  and  beautifullest  and  sweetest 
roses  that  any  mortal  ever  saw  or  smelt.  These  roses  were 
still  growing  in  the  garden,  as  large,  as  lovely,  and  as 
fragrant,  as  when  Midas  used  to  pass  whole  hours  in  gazing 
at  them,  and  inhaling  their  perfume.  But  now,  if  he 
looked  at  them  at  all,  it  was  only  to  calculate  how  much 
the  garden  would  be  worth  if  each  of  the  innumerable  rose- 
petals  were  a  thin  plate  of  gold.  And  though  he  once  was 
fond  of  music  (in  spite  of  an  idle  story  about  his  ears,  which 
were  said  to  resemble  those  of  an  ass),  the  only  music  for 
poor  Midas,  now,  was  the  chink  of  one  coin  against  another. 

At  length  (as  people  always  grow  more  and  more 
foolish,  unless  they  take  care  to  grow  wiser  and  wiser), 
Midas  had  got  to  be  so  exceedingly  unreasonable,  that  he 
could  scarcely  bear  to  see  or  touch  any  object  that  was  not 
gold.  He  made  it  his  custom,  therefore,  to  pass  a  large 
portion  of  every  day  in  a  dark  and  dreary  apartment,  under 
ground,  at  the  basement  of  his  palace.  It  was  here  that 
he  kept  his  wealth.  To  this  dismal  hole — for  it  was  little 
better  than  a  dungeon — Midas  betook  himself,  whenever 
he  wanted  to  be  particularly  happy.  Here,  after  carefully 
locking  the  door,  he  would  take  a  bag  of  gold  coin,  or  a  gold 
cup  as  big  as  a  washbowl,  or  a  heavy  golden  bar,  or  a  peck- 

48 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

measure  of  gold-dust,  and  bring  them  from  the  obscure 
corners  of  the  room  into  the  one  bright  and  narrow  sun- 
beam that  fell  from  the  dungeon-like  window.  He  valued 
the  sunbeam  for  no  other  reason  but  that  his  treasure  would 
not  shine  without  its  help.  And  then  would  he  reckon 
over  the  coins  in  the  bag  ;  toss  up  the  bar,  and  catch  it  as 
it  came  down  ;  sift  the  gold-dust  through  his  fingers  ; 
look  at  the  funny  image  of  his  own  face,  as  reflected  in  the 
burnished  circumference  of  the  cup  ;  and  whisper  to 
himself,  *  O  Midas,  rich  King  Midas,  what  a  happy  man 
art  thou  !  '  But  it  was  laughable  to  see  how  the  image 
of  his  face  kept  grinning  at  him,  out  of  the  polished  surface 
of  the  cup.  It  seemed  to  be  aware  of  his  foolish  behaviour, 
and  to  have  a  naughty  inclination  to  make  fun  of  him. 

Midas  called  himself  a  happy  man,  but  felt  that  he 
was  not  yet  quite  so  happy  as  he  might  be.  The  very 
tiptop  of  enjoyment  would  never  be  reached,  unless  the 
whole  world  were  to  become  his  treasure-room,  and  be 
filled  with  yellow  metal  which  should  be  all  his  own. 

Now,  I  need  hardly  remind  such  wise  little  people  as 
you  are,  that  in  the  old,  old  times,  when  King  Midas  was 
alive,  a  great  many  things  came  to  pass,  which  we  should 
consider  wonderful  if  they  were  to  happen  in  our  own  day 
and  country.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  a  great  many  things 
take  place  nowadays,  which  seem  not  only  wonderful  to  us, 
but  at  which  the  people  of  old  times  would  have  stared 
their  eyes  out.  On  the  whole,  I  regard  our  own  times  as 
the  strangest  of  the  two  ;  but,  however  that  may  be,  I 
must  go  on  with  my  story. 

Midas  was  enjoying  himself  in  his  treasure-room  one 
day,  as  usual,  when  he  perceived  a  shadow  fall  over  the 

G  49 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

heaps  of  gold  ;  and,  looking  suddenly  up,  what  should  he 
behold  but  the  figure  of  a  stranger,  standing  in  the  bright 
and  narrow  sunbeam  !  It  was  a  young  man,  with  a  cheerful 
and  ruddy  face.  Whether  it  was  that  the  imagination  of 
King  Midas  threw  a  yellow  tinge  over  everything,  or 
whatever  the  cause  might  be,  he  could  not  help  fancying 
that  the  smile  with  which  the  stranger  regarded  him  had  a 
kind  of  golden  radiance  in  it.  Certainly,  although  his 
figure  intercepted  the  sunshine,  there  was  now  a  brighter 
gleam  upon  all  the  piled-up  treasures  than  before.  Even 
the  remotest  corners  had  their  share  of  it,  and  were  lighted 
up,  when  the  stranger  smiled,  as  with  tips  of  flame  and 
sparkles  of  fire. 

As  Midas  knew  that  he  had  carefully  turned  the  key  in 
the  lock,  and  that  no  mortal  strength  could  possibly  break 
into  his  treasure-room,  he,  of  course,  concluded  that  his 
visitor  must  be  something  more  than  mortal.  It  is  no 
matter  about  telling  you  who  he  was.  In  those  days, 
when  the  earth  was  comparatively  a  new  affair,  it  was 
supposed  to  be  often  the  resort  of  beings  endowed  with 
supernatural  power,  and  who  used  to  interest  themselves  in 
the  joys  and  sorrows  of  men,  women,  and  children,  half 
playfully  and  half  seriously.  Midas  had  met  such  beings 
before  now,  and  was  not  sorry  to  meet  one  of  them  again. 
The  stranger's  aspect,  indeed,  was  so  good-humoured  and 
kindly,  if  not  beneficent,  that  it  would  have  been  un- 
reasonable to  suspect  him  of  intending  any  mischief.  It 
was  far  more  probable  that  he  came  to  do  Midas  a  favour. 
And  what  could  that  favour  be,  unless  to  multiply  his  heaps 
of  treasure  ? 

The  stranger  gazed  about  the  room  ;    and  when  his 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

lustrous  smile  had  glistened  upon  all  the  golden  objects 
that  were  there,  he  turned  again  to  Midas. 

*  You  are  a  wealthy  man,  friend  Midas  ! '  he  observed. 
*  I  doubt  whether  any  other  four  walls,  on  earth,  contain 
so  much  gold  as  you  have  contrived  to  pile  up  in  this  room.' 

*  I    have    done    pretty    well,— pretty    well/    answered 
Midas,  in  a  discontented  tone.    *  But,  after  all,  it  is  but 
a  trifle,  when  you  consider  that  it  has  taken  me  my  whole 
life  to  get  it  together.    If  one  could  live  a  thousand  years, 
he  might  have  time  to  grow  rich  !  ' 

*  What !  '    exclaimed   the   stranger.    '  Then   you   are 
not  satisfied  ?  ' 

Midas  shook  his  head. 

'  And  pray  what  would  satisfy  you  ?  '  asked  the 
stranger.  *  Merely  for  the  curiosity  of  the  thing,  I  should 
be  glad  to  know/ 

Midas  paused  and  meditated.  He  felt  a  presentiment 
that  this  stranger,  with  such  a  golden  lustre  in  his  good- 
humoured  smile,  had  come  hither  with  both  the  power 
and  the  purpose  of  gratifying  his  utmost  wishes.  Now, 
therefore,  was  the  fortunate  moment,  when  he  had  but 
to  speak,  and  obtain  whatever  possible,  or  seemingly 
impossible  thing,  it  might  come  into  his  head  to  ask.  So 
he  thought,  and  thought,  and  thought,  and  heaped  up  one 
golden  mountain  upon  another,  in  his  imagination,  without 
being  able  to  imagine  them  big  enough.  At  last  a  bright 
idea  occurred  to  King  Midas.  It  seemed  really  as  bright 
as  the  glistening  metal  which  he  loved  so  much. 

Raising  his  head,  he  looked  the  illustrious  stranger  in 
the  face. 

1  Well,  Midas/  observed  his  visitor,  *  I  see  that  you 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

have  at  length  hit  upon  something  that  will  satisfy  you. 
Tell  me  your  wish.' 

*  It   is   only   this,'   replied   Midas.    '  I   am  weary   of 
collecting  my  treasures  with  so  much  trouble,  and  be- 
holding the  heap  so  diminutive,  after  I  have  done  my  best. 
I  wish  everything  that  I  touch  to  be  changed  to  gold  ! ' 

The  stranger's  smile  grew  so  very  broad,  that  it  seemed 
to  fill  the  room  like  an  outburst  of  the  sun,  gleaming  into  a 
shadowy  dell,  where  the  yellow  autumnal  leaves — for  so 
looked  the  lumps  and  particles  of  gold — lie  strewn  in  the 
glow  of  light. 

*  The  Golden  Touch  !  '  exclaimed  he.    '  You  certainly 
deserve  credit,  friend  Midas,  for  striking  out  so  brilliant 
a  conception.    But  are  you  quite  sure  that  this  will  satisfy 
you  ?  ' 

*  How  could  it  fail  ?  '  said  Midas. 

*  And  will  you  never  regret  the  possession  of  it  ? ' 

*  What    could    induce    me  ?  '     asked    Midas.    '  I    ask 
nothing  else,  to  render  me  perfectly  happy.' 

*  Be  it  as  you  wish,  then,'  replied  the  stranger,  waving 
his  hand  in  token  of  farewell.    '  To-morrow,  at  sunrise, 
you  will  find  yourself  gifted  with  the  Golden  Touch.' 

The  figure  of  the  stranger  then  became  exceedingly 
bright,  and  Midas  involuntarily  closed  his  eyes.  On 
opening  them  again,  he  beheld  only  one  yellow  sunbeam 
in  the  room,  and,  all  around  him,  the  glistening  of  the 
precious  metal  which  he  had  spent  his  life  in  hoarding  up. 

Whether  Midas  slept  as  usual  that  night,  the  story 
does  not  say.  Asleep  or  awake,  however,  his  mind  was 
probably  in  the  state  of  a  child's,  to  whom  a  beautiful  new 
plaything  has  been  promised  in  the  morning.  At  any  rate, 

52 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

day  had  hardly  peeped  over  the  hills,  when  King  Midas 
was  broad  awake,  and,  stretching  his  arms  out  of  bed 
began  to  touch  the  objects  that  were  within  reach.  He 
was  anxious  to  prove  whether  the  Golden  Touch  had  really 
come,  according  to  the  stranger's  promise.  So  he  laid  his 
finger  on  a  chair  by  the  bedside,  and  on  various  other 
things,  but  was  grievously  disappointed  to  perceive  that 
they  remained  of  exactly  the  same  substance  as  before. 
Indeed,  he  felt  very  much  afraid  that  he  had  only  dreamed 
about  the  lustrous  stranger,  or  else  that  the  latter  had  been 
making  game  of  him.  And  what  a  miserable  affair  would 
it  be,  if,  after  all  his  hopes,  Midas  must  content  himself 
with  what  little  gold  he  could  scrape  together  by  ordinary 
means,  instead  of  creating  it  by  a  touch  ! 

All  this  while  it  was  only  the  gray  of  the  morning, 
with  but  a  streak  of  brightness  along  the  edge  of  the  sky, 
where  Midas  could  not  see  it.  He  lay  in  a  very  disconsolate 
mood,  regretting  the  downfall  of  his  hopes,  and  kept 
growing  sadder  and  sadder,  until  the  earliest  sunbeam 
shone  through  the  window,  and  gilded  the  ceiling  over  his 
head.  It  seemed  to  Midas  that  this  bright  yellow  sunbeam 
was  reflected  in  rather  a  singular  way  on  the  white  covering 
of  the  bed.  Looking  more  closely,  what  was  his  astonish- 
ment and  delight,  when  he  found  that  this  linen  fabric 
had  been  transmuted  to  what  seemed  a  woven  texture  of 
the  purest  and  brightest  gold  !  The  Golden  Touch  had 
come  to  him  with  the  first  sunbeam  1 

Midas  started  up,  in  a  kind  of  joyful  frenzy,  and  ran 
about  the  room,  grasping  at  everything  that  happened  to 
be  in  his  way.  He  seized  one  of  the  bedposts,  and  it 
became  immediately  a  fluted  golden  pillar.  He  pulled 

53 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

aside  a  window  curtain,  in  order  to  admit  a  clear  spectacle 
of  the  wonders  which  he  was  performing  ;  and  the  tassel 
grew  heavy  in  his  hand, — a  mass  of  gold.  He  took  up  a 
book  from  the  table.  At  his  first  touch,  it  assumed  the 
appearance  of  such  a  splendidly  bound  and  gilt-edged 
volume  as  one  often  meets  with,  nowadays  ;  but,  on  running 
his  fingers  through  the  leaves,  behold  !  it  was  a  bundle  of 
thin  golden  plates,  in  which  all  the  wisdom  of  the  book 
had  grown  illegible.  He  hurriedly  put  on  his  clothes,  and 
was  enraptured  to  see  himself  in  a  magnificent  suit  of  gold 
cloth,  which  retained  its  flexibility  and  softness,  although 
it  burdened  him  a  little  with  its  weight.  He  drew  out  his 
handkerchief,  which  little  Marygold  had  hemmed  for  him. 
That  was  likewise  gold,  with  the  dear  child's  neat  and 
pretty  stitches  running  all  along  the  border,  in  gold  thread  ! 

Somehow  or  other,  this  last  transformation  did  not 
quite  please  King  Midas.  He  would  rather  that  his  little 
daughter's  handiwork  should  have  remained  just  the  same 
as  when  she  climbed  his  knee  and  put  it  into  his  hand. 

But  it  was  not  worth  while  to  vex  himself  about  a  trifle. 
Midas  now  took  his  spectacles  from  his  pocket,  and  put 
them  on  his  nose,  in  order  that  he  might  see  more  distinctly 
what  he  was  about.  In  those  days,  spectacles  for  common 
people  had  not  been  invented,  but  were  already  worn  by 
kings  ;  else,  how  could  Midas  have  had  any  ?  To  his  great 
perplexity,  however,  excellent  as  the  glasses  were,  he 
discovered  that  he  could  not  possibly  see  through  them. 
But  this  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  ;  for,  on 
taking  them  off,  the  transparent  crystals  turned  out  to  be 
plates  of  yellow  metal,  and,  of  course,  were  worthless 
as  spectacles,  though  valuable  as  gold.  It  struck  Midas  as 

54 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

rather  inconvenient  that,  with  all  his  wealth,  he  could 
never  again  be  rich  enough  to  own  a  pair  of  serviceable 
spectacles. 

'  It  is  no  great  matter,  nevertheless/  said  he  to  himself, 
very  philosophically.  *  We  cannot  expect  any  great  good, 
without  its  being  accompanied  with  some  small  incon- 
venience. The  Golden  Touch  is  worth  the  sacrifice  of  a 
pair  of  spectacles,  at  least,  if  not  of  one's  very  eyesight. 
My  own  eyes  will  serve  for  ordinary  purposes,  and  little 
Marygold  will  soon  be  old  enough  to  read  to  me.' 

Wise  King  Midas  was  so  exalted  by  his  good  fortune, 
that  the  palace  seemed  not  sufficiently  spacious  to  contain 
him.  He  therefore  went  down  stairs,  and  smiled,  on 
observing  that  the  balustrade  of  the  staircase  became  a 
bar  of  burnished  gold,  as  his  hand  passed  over  it,  in  his 
descent.  He  lifted  the  door-latch  (it  was  brass  only  a 
moment  ago,  but  golden  when  his  fingers  quitted  it),  and 
emerged  into  the  garden.  Here,  as  it  happened,  he  found 
a  great  number  of  beautiful  roses  in  full  bloom,  and  others 
in  all  the  stages  of  lovely  bud  and  blossom.  Very  delicious 
ivas  their  fragrance  in  the  morning  breeze.  Their  delicate 
blush  was  one  of  the  fairest  sights  in  the  world  ;  so  gentle, 
so  modest,  and  so  full  of  sweet  tranquillity,  did  these  roses 
seem  to  be. 

But  Midas  knew  a  way  to  make  them  far  more  precious, 
according  to  his  way  of  thinking,  than  roses  had  ever  been 
before.  So  he  took  great  pains  in  going  from  bush  to 
bush,  and  exercised  his  magic  touch  most  indefatigably  ; 
until  every  individual  flower  and  bud,  and  even  the  worms 
at  the  heart  of  some  of  them,  were  changed  to  gold.  By 
the  time  this  good  work  was  completed,  King  Midas  was 

55 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

summoned  to  breakfast ;  and  as  the  morning  air  had 
given  him  an  excellent  appetite,  he  made  haste  back  to 
the  palace. 

What  was  usually  a  king's  breakfast  in  the  days  of 
Midas,  I  really  do  not  know,  and  cannot  stop  now  to 
investigate.  To  the  best  of  my  belief,  however,  on  this 
particular  morning,  the  breakfast  consisted  of  hot  cakes, 
some  nice  little  brook-trout,  roasted  potatoes,  fresh  boiled 
eggs,  and  coffee,  for  King  Midas  himself,  and  a  bowl  of 
bread  and  milk  for  his  daughter  Mary  gold.  At  all  events, 
this  is  a  breakfast  fit  to  set  before  a  king  ;  and,  whether  he 
had  it  or  not,  King  Midas  could  not  have  had  a  better. 

Little  Marygold  had  not  yet  made  her  appearance.  Her 
father  ordered  her  to  be  called,  and,  seating  himself  at 
table,  awaited  the  child's  coming,  in  order  to  begin  his  own 
breakfast.  To  do  Midas  justice,  he  really  loved  his 
daughter,  and  loved  her  so  much  the  more  this  morning, 
on  account  of  the  good  fortune  which  had  befallen  him. 
It  was  not  a  great  while  before  he  heard  her  coming  along 
the  passageway  crying  bitterly.  This  circumstance  sur- 
prised him,  because  Marygold  was  one  of  the  cheerfullest 
little  people  whom  you  would  see  in  a  summer's  day,  and 
hardly  shed  a  thimbleful  of  tears  in  a  twelvemonth.  When 
Midas  heard  her  sobs,  he  determined  to  put  little  Marygold 
into  better  spirits,  by  an  agreeable  surprise  ;  so,  leaning 
across  the  table,  he  touched  his  daughter's  bowl  (which  was 
a  China  one,  with  pretty  figures  all  around  it),  and  trans- 
muted it  to  gleaming  gold. 

Meanwhile,  Marygold  slowly  and  disconsolately  opened 
the  door,  and  showed  herself  with  her  apron  at  her  eyes, 
still  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

56 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

5  How  now,  my  little  lady  !  '  cried  Midas.  c  Pray  what 
is  the  matter  with  you  this  bright  morning  ?  ' 

Marygold,  without  taking  the  apron  from  her  eyes, 
held  out  her  hand,  in  which  was  one  of  the  roses  which 
Midas  had  so  recently  transmuted. 

*  Beautiful  ! '    exclaimed   her   father.    '  And   what   is 
there  in  this  magnificent  golden  rose  to  make  you  cry  ?  ' 

*  Ah,  dear  father  !  '   answered  the  child,  as  well  as  her 
sobs  would  let  her  ;   *  it  is  not  beautiful,  but  the  ugliest 
flower  that  ever  grew  !    As  soon  as  I  was  dressed  I  ran 
into  the  garden  to  gather  some  roses  for  you  ;   because  I 
know  you  like  them,  and  like  them  the  better  when  gathered 
by  your  little  daughter.    But,  oh  dear,  dear  me  !    What 
do  you  think  has  happened  ?    Such  a  misfortune  !    All  the 
beautiful  roses,  that  smelled  so  sweetly  and  had  so  many 
lovely  blushes,  are  blighted  and  spoilt !    They  are  grown 
quite  yellow,  as  you  see  this  one,  and  have  no  longer  any 
fragrance  !    What  can  have  been  the  matter  with  them  ? ' 

*  Poh,  my  dear  little  girl, — pray  don't  cry  about  it !  ' 
said  Midas,  who  was  ashamed  to  confess  that  he  himself 
had  wrought  the  change  which  so  greatly  afflicted  her. 
'  Sit  down  and  eat  your  bread  and  milk  !    You  will  find  it 
easy  enough  to  exchange  a  golden  rose  like  that  (which  will 
last  hundreds  of  years)  for  an  ordinary  one  which  would 
wither  in  a  day.' 

'  I  don't  care  for  such  as  this  ! '  cried  Marygold, 
tossing  it  contemptuously  away.  '  It  has  no  smell,  and 
the  hard  petals  prick  my  nose  ! ' 

The  child  now  sat  down  to  table,  but  was  so  occupied 
with  her  grief  for  the  blighted  roses  that  she  did  not  even 
notice  the  wonderful  transmutation  of  her  China  bowl. 

H  57 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

Perhaps  this  was  all  the  better  ;  for  Marygold  was  accus- 
tomed to  take  pleasure  in  looking  at  the  queer  figures,  and 
strange  trees  and  houses,  that  were  painted  on  the  circum- 
ference of  the  bowl ;  and  these  ornaments  were  now 
entirely  lost  in  the  yellow  hue  of  the  metal. 

Midas,  meanwhile,  had  poured  out  a  cup  of  coffee,  and, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  the  coffee-pot,  whatever  metal  it 
may  have  been  when  he  took  it  up,  was  gold  when  he  set 
it  down.  He  thought  to  himself,  that  it  was  rather  an 
extravagant  style  of  splendour,  in  a  king  of  his  simple 
habits,  to  breakfast  off  a  service  of  gold,  and  began  to  be 
puzzled  with  the  difficulty  of  keeping  his  treasures  safe. 
The  cupboard  and  the  kitchen  would  no  longer  be  a  secure 
place  of  deposit  for  articles  so  valuable  as  golden  bowls 
and  coffee-pots. 

Amid  these  thoughts,  he  lifted  a  spoonful  of  coffee 
to  his  lips,  and,  sipping  it,  was  astonished  to  perceive  that, 
the  instant  his  lips  touched  the  liquid,  it  became  molten 
gold,  and,  the  next  moment,  hardened  into  a  lump  ! 

'  Ha  !  '  exclaimed  Midas,  rather  aghast. 

*  What  is  the  matter,  father  ?  '   asked  little  Marygold, 
gazing  at  him,  with  the  tears  still  standing  in  her  eyes. 

*  Nothing,  child,  nothing  ! '    said  Midas.    *  Eat  your 
milk,  before  it  gets  quite  cold/ 

He  took  one  of  the  nice  little  trouts  on  his  plate,  and, 
by  way  of  experiment,  touched  its  tail  with  his  finger. 
To  his  horror,  it  was  immediately  transmuted  from  an 
admirably  fried  brook-trout  into  a  gold-fish,  though  not 
one  of  those  gold-fishes  which  people  often  keep  in  glass 
globes,  as  ornaments  for  the  parlour.  No  ;  but  it  was 
really  a  metallic  fish,  and  looked  as  if  it  had  been  very 

58 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

cunningly  made  by  the  nicest  goldsmith  in  the  world.  Its 
little  bones  were  now  golden  wires  ;  its  fins  and  tail  were 
thin  plates  of  gold  ;  and  there  were  the  marks  of  the  fork 
in  it,  and  all  the  delicate,  frothy  appearance  of  a  nicely 
fried  fish,  exactly  imitated  in  metal.  A  very  pretty  piece 
of  work,  as  you  may  suppose  ;  only  King  Midas,  just  at 
that  moment,  would  much  rather  have  had  a  real  trout  in 
his  dish  than  this  elaborate  and  valuable  imitation  of  one. 

*  I  don't  quite  see/  thought  he  himself,  *  how  I  am  to 
get  any  breakfast !  ' 

He  took  one  of  the  smoking-hot  cakes,  and  had  scarcely 
broken  it,  when,  to  his  cruel  mortification,  though,  a 
moment  before,  it  had  been  of  the  whitest  wheat,  it  assumed 
the  yellow  hue  of  Indian  meal.  To  say  the  truth,  if  it  had 
really  been  a  hot  Indian  cake,  Midas  would  have  prized 
it  a  good  deal  more  than  he  now  did,  when  its  solidity  and 
increased  weight  made  him  too  bitterly  sensible  that  it  was 
gold.  Almost  in  despair,  he  helped  himself  to  a  boiled 
egg,  which  immediately  underwent  a  change  similar  to 
those  of  the  trout  and  cake.  The  egg,  indeed,  might  have 
been  mistaken  for  one  of  those  which  the  famous  goose, 
in  the  story-book,  was  in  the  habit  of  laying  ;  but  King 
Midas  was  the  only  goose  that  had  had  anything  to  do  with 
the  matter. 

*  Well,  this  is  a  quandary  !  '   thought  he,  leaning  back 
in  his  chair,  and  looking  quite  enviously  at  little  Marygold, 
who  was  now  eating  her  bread  and  milk  with  great  satis- 
faction.   *  Such  a  costly  breakfast  before  me,  and  nothing 
that  can  be  eaten  !  ' 

Hoping  that,  by  dint  of  great  dispatch,  he  might  avoid 
what  he  now  felt  to  be  a  considerable  inconvenience,  King 

59 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

Midas  next  snatched  a  hot  potato,  and  attempted  to  cram 
it  into  his  mouth,  and  swallow  it  in  a  hurry.  But  the 
Golden  Touch  was  too  nimble  for  him.  He  found  his 
mouth  full,  not  of  mealy  potato,  but  of  solid  metal,  which 
so  burnt  his  tongue  that  he  roared  aloud,  and,  jumping  up 
from  the  table,  began  to  dance  and  stamp  about  the  room, 
both  with  pain  and  affright. 

1  Father,  dear  father  !  '  cried  little  Mary  gold,  who  was 
a  yery  affectionate  child,  *  pray  what  is  the  matter  ?  Have 
you  burnt  your  mouth  ?  ' 

*  Ah,  dear  child/  groaned  Midas  dolefully,  '  I  don't 
know  what  is  to  become  of  your  poor  father  ! ' 

And,  truly,  my  dear  little  folks,  did  you  ever  hear  of 
such  a  pitiable  case  in  all  your  lives  ?  Here  was  literally 
the  richest  breakfast  that  could  be  set  before  a  king,  and 
its  very  richness  made  it  absolutely  good  for  nothing.  The 
poorest  labourer,  sitting  down  to  his  crust  of  bread  and  cup 
of  water,  was  far  better  off  than  King  Midas,  whose  delicate 
food  was  really  worth  its  weight  in  gold.  And  what  was 
to  be  done  ?  Already,  at  breakfast,  Midas  was  excessively 
hungry.  Would  he  be  less  so  by  dinner-time  ?  And  how 
ravenous  would  be  his  appetite  for  supper,  which  must 
undoubtedly  consist  of  the  same  sort  of  indigestible  dishes 
as  those  now  before  him  !  How  many  days,  think  you, 
would  he  survive  a  continuance  of  this  rich  fare  ? 

These  reflections  so  troubled  wise  King  Midas,  that 
he  began  to  doubt  whether,  after  all,  riches  are  the  one 
desirable  thing  in  the  world,  or  even  the  most  desirable. 
But  this  was  only  a  passing  thought.  So  fascinated  was 
Midas  with  the  glitter  of  the  yellow  metal,  that  he  would 
still  have  refused  to  give  up  the  Golden  Touch  for  so  paltry 

60 


«  THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

a  consideration  as  a  breakfast.  Just  imagine  what  a  price 
for  one  meal's  victuals  !  It  would  have  been  the  same  as 
paying  millions  and  millions  of  money  (and  as  many  millions 
more  as  would  take  for  ever  to  reckon  up)  for  some  fried 
trout,  an  egg,  a  potato,  a  hot  cake,  and  a  cup  of  coffee  ! 

*  It  would  be  quite  too  dear/  thought  Midas. 

Nevertheless,  so  great  was  his  hunger,  and  the  per- 
plexity of  his  situation,  that  he  again  groaned  aloud,  and 
very  grievously  too.  Our  pretty  Marygold  could  endure 
it  no  longer.  She  sat  a  moment,  gazing  at  her  father,  and 
trying,  with  all  the  might  of  her  little  wits,  to  find  out  what 
was  the  matter  with  him.  Then,  with  a  sweet  and  sorrow- 
ful impulse  to  comfort  him,  she  started  from  her  chair,  and, 
running  to  Midas,  threw  her  arms  affectionately  about  his 
knees.  He  bent  down  and  kissed  her.  He  felt  that  his 
little  daughter's  love  was  worth  a  thousand  times  more  than 
he  had  gained  by  the  Golden  Touch. 

*  My  precious,  precious  Marygold  ! '  cried  he. 
But  Marygold  made  no  answer. 

Alas,  what  had  he  done  ?  How  fatal  was  the  gift  which 
the  stranger  bestowed  !  The  moment  the  lips  of  Midas 
touched  Marygold 's  forehead,  a  change  had  taken  place. 
Her  sweet,  rosy  face,  so  full  of  affection  as  it  had  been, 
assumed  a  glittering  yellow  colour,  with  yellow  tear-drops 
congealing  on  her  cheeks.  Her  beautiful  brown  ringlets 
took  the  same  tint.  Her  soft  and  tender  little  form  grew 
hard  and  inflexible  within  her  father's  encircling  arms. 
Oh,  terrible  misfortune  !  The  victim  of  his  insatiable 
desire  for  wealth,  little  Marygold  was  a  human  child  no 
longer,  but  a  golden  statue  ! 

Yes,  there  she  was,  with  the  questioning  look  of  love, 

61 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

grief,  and  pity,  hardened  into  her  face.  It  was  the 
prettiest  and  most  woeful  sight  that  ever  mortal  saw.  All 
the  features  and  tokens  of  Marygold  were  there  ;  even  the 
beloved  little  dimple  remained  in  her  golden  chin.  But, 
the  more  perfect  was  the  resemblance,  the  greater  was 
the  father's  agony  at  beholding  this  golden  image,  which 
was  all  that  was  left  him  of  a  daughter.  It  had  been  a 
favourite  phrase  of  Midas,  whenever  he  felt  particularly 
fond  of  the  child,  to  say  that  she  was  worth  her  weight 
in  gold.  And  now  the  phrase  had  become  literally  true. 
And  now,  at  last,  when  it  was  too  late,  he  felt  how  infin- 
itely a  warm  and  tender  heart,  that  loved  him,  exceeded 
in  value  all  the  wealth  that  could  be  piled  up  betwixt  the 
earth  and  sky ! 

It  would  be  too  sad  a  story,  if  I  were  to  tell  you  how 
Midas,  in  the  fulness  of  all  his  gratified  desires,  began  to 
wring  his  hands  and  bemoan  himself ;  and  how  he  could 
neither  bear  to  look  at  Marygold  nor  yet  to  look  away 
from  her.  Except  when  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  image, 
he  could  not  possibly  believe  that  she  was  changed  to 
gold.  But,  stealing  another  glance,  there  was  the  precious 
little  figure,  with  a  yellow  tear-drop  on  its  yellow  cheek, 
and  a  look  so  piteous  and  tender,  that  it  seemed  as  if  that 
very  expression  must  needs  soften  the  gold,  and  make  it 
flesh  again.  This,  however,  could  not  be.  So  Midas  had 
only  to  wring  his  hands,  and  to  wish  that  he  were  the 
poorest  man  in  the  wide  world,  if  the  loss  of  all  his  wealth 
might  bring  back  the  faintest  rose-colour  to  his  dear 
child's  face. 

While  he  was  in  this  tumult  of  despair,  he  suddenly 
beheld  a  stranger  standing  near  the  door.  Midas  bent 

62 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

down  his  head,  without  speaking ;  for  he  recognised  the 
same  figure  which  had  appeared  to  him,  the  day  before, 
in  the  treasure-room,  and  had  bestowed  on  him  this 
disastrous  faculty  of  the  Golden  Touch.  The  stranger's 
countenance  still  wore  a  smile,  which  seemed  to  shed  a 
yellow  lustre  all  about  the  room,  and  gleamed  on  little 
Marygold's  image,  and  on  the  other  objects  that  had  been 
transmuted  by  the  touch  of  Midas. 

*  Well,  friend  Midas/  said  the  stranger,  '  pray  how  do 
you  succeed  with  the  Golden  Touch  ?  ' 

Midas  shook  his  head. 

'  I  am  very  miserable/  said  he. 

*  Very  miserable,   indeed  !  '    exclaimed  the  stranger. 
'  And  how  happens  that  ?    Have  I  not  faithfully  kept  my 
promise  with  you  ?    Have  you  not  everything  that  your 
heart  desired  ?  ' 

'  Gold  is  not  everything/  answered  Midas.  '  And 
I  have  lost  all  that  my  heart  really  cared  for.' 

*  Ah  !     So  you  have  made  a  discovery,  since  yesterday?  ' 
observed  the  stranger.    *  Let  us  see,  then.    Which  of  these 
two  things  do  you  think  is  really  worth  the  most, — the  gift 
of  the  Golden  Touch,  or  one  cup  of  clear  cold  water  ? ' 

*  O  blessed  water  ! '   exclaimed  Midas.    *  It  will  never 
moisten  my  parched  throat  again  ! ' 

1  The  Golden  Touch/  continued  the  stranger,  '  or 
a  crust  of  bread  ?  ' 

'  A  piece  of  bread/  answered  Midas,  *  is  worth  all  the 
gold  on  earth  ! ' 

*  The  Golden  Touch/  asked  the  stranger,  *  or  your 
own  little  Mary  gold,  warm,  soft,  and  loving  as  she  was  an 
hour  ago  ?  ' 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

'  Oh  my  child,  my  dear  child  ! '  cried  poor  Midas, 
wringing  his  hands.  *  I  would  not  have  given  that  one 
small  dimple  in  her  chin  for  the  power  of  changing  this 
whole  big  earth  into  a  solid  lump  of  gold  !  ' 

'  You  are  wiser  than  you  were,  King  Midas  !  '  said  the 
stranger,  looking  seriously  at  him.  '  Your  own  heart,  I 
perceive,  has  not  been  entirely  changed  from  flesh  to  gold. 
Were  it  so,  your  case  would  indeed  be  desperate.  But  you 
appear  to  be  still  capable  of  understanding  that  the  com- 
monest things,  such  as  lie  within  everybody's  grasp,  are 
more  valuable  than  the  riches  which  so  many  mortals  sigh 
and  struggle  after.  Tell  me,  now,  do  you  sincerely  desire 
to  rid  yourself  of  this  Golden  Touch  ?  ' 

'  It  is  hateful  to  me  !  '  replied  Midas. 

A  fly  settled  on  his  nose,  but  fell  immediately  to  the 
floor  ;  for  it,  too,  had  become  gold.  Midas  shuddered. 

'  Go,  then/  said  the  stranger,  *  and  plunge  into  the 
river  that  glides  past  the  bottom  of  your  garden.  Take 
likewise  a  vase  of  the  same  water,  and  sprinkle  it  over  any 
object  that  you  may  desire  to  change  back  again  from  gold 
into  its  former  substance.  If  you  do  this  in  earnestness 
and  sincerity,  it  may  possibly  repair  the  mischief  which 
your  avarice  has  occasioned.' 

King  Midas  bowed  low  ;  and  when  he  lifted  his  head, 
the  lustrous  stranger  had  vanished. 

You  will  easily  believe  that  Midas  lost  no  time  in 
snatching  up  a  great  earthen  pitcher  (but,  alas  me  !  it  was 
no  longer  earthen  after  he  touched  it),  and  hastening  to  the 
river-side.  As  he  scampered  along,  and  forced  his  way 
through  the  shrubbery,  it  was  positively  marvellous  to  sec 
how  the  foliage  turned  yellow  behind  him,  as  if  the  autumn 

64 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

had  been  there,  and  nowhere  else.  On  reaching  the  river's 
brink,  he  plunged  headlong  in,  without  waiting  so  much 
as  to  pull  off  his  shoes. 

*  Poof !  poof  !  poof !  '  snorted  King  Midas,  as  his 
head  emerged  out  of  the  water.  *  Well ;  this  is  really  a 
refreshing  bath,  and  I  think  it  must  have  quite  washed 
way  the  Golden  Touch.  And  now  for  filling  my  pitcher  !  ' 

As  he  dipped  the  pitcher  into  the  water,  it  gladdened 
his  very  heart  to  see  it  change  from  gold  into  the  same  good, 
honest  earthen  vessel  which  it  had  been  before  he  touched 
it.  He  was  conscious,  also,  of  a  change  within  himself. 
A  cold,  hard,  and  heavy  weight  seemed  to  have  gone  out 
of  his  bosom.  No  doubt,  his  heart  had  been  gradually 
losing  its  human  substance,  and  transmuting  itself  into 
insensible  metal,  but  had  now  softened  back  again  into 
flesh.  Perceiving  a  violet  that  grew  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  Midas  touched  it  with  his  finger,  and  was  overjoyed 
to  find  that  the  delicate  flower  retained  its  purple  hue, 
instead  of  undergoing  a  yellow  blight.  The  curse  of  the 
Golden  Touch  had,  therefore,  really  been  removed  from 
him. 

King  Midas  hastened  back  to  the  palace  ;  and,  I 
suppose,  the  servants  knew  not  what  to  make  of  it  when 
they  saw  their  royal  master  so  carefully  bringing  home  an 
earthen  pitcher  of  water.  But  that  water,  which  was  to 
undo  all  the  mischief  that  his  folly  had  wrought,  was  more 
precious  to  Midas  than  an  ocean  of  molten  gold  could  have 
been.  The  first  thing  he  did,  as  you  need  hardly  be  told, 
was  to  sprinkle  it  by  handfuls  over  the  golden  figure  of 
little  Mary  gold. 

No  sooner  did  it  fall  on  her  than  you  would  have 

i  65 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

laughed  to  see  how  the  rosy  colour  came  back  to  the  dear 
child's  cheek  !  and  how  she  began  to  sneeze  and  sputter  ! — 
and  how  astonished  she  was  to  find  herself  dripping  wet, 
and  her  father  still  throwing  more  water  over  her  ! 

*  Pray  do  not,  dear  father  !  '  cried  she.  *  See  how 
you  have  wet  my  nice  frock,  which  I  put  on  only  this 
morning  !  ' 

For  Marygold  did  not  know  that  she  had  been  a  little 
golden  statue  ;  nor  could  she  remember  anything  that 
had  happened  since  the  moment  when  she  ran  with  out- 
stretched arms  to  comfort  poor  King  Midas. 

Her  father  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell  his  beloved 
child  how  very  foolish  he  had  been,  but  contented  him- 
self with  showing  how  much  wiser  he  had  now  grown. 
For  this  purpose,  he  led  little  Marygold  into  the  garden, 
where  he  sprinkled  all  the  remainder  of  the  water  over  the 
rose-bushes,  and  with  such  good  effect  that  above  five 
thousand  roses  recovered  their  beautiful  bloom.  There 
were  two  circumstances,  however,  which,  as  long  as  he 
lived,  used  to  put  King  Midas  in  mind  of  the  Golden 
Touch.  One  was,  that  the  sands  of  the  river  sparkled  like 
gold  ;  the  other,  that  little  Marygold 's  hair  had  now  a 
golden  tinge,  which  he  had  never  observed  in  it  before  she 
had  been  transmuted  by  the  effect  of  his  kiss.  This  change 
of  hue  was  really  an  improvement,  and  made  Marygold 's 
hair  richer  than  in  her  babyhood. 

When  King  Midas  had  grown  quite  an  old  man,  and 
used  to  trot  Mary  gold's  children  on  his  knee,  he  was  fond 
of  telling  them  this  marvellous  story,  pretty  much  as  I 
have  now  told  it  to  you.  And  then  would  he  stroke  their 
glossy  ringlets,  and  tell  them  that  their  hair,  likewise,  had 

66 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

a  rich  shade  of  gold,  which  they  had  inherited  from  their 
mother. 

*  And  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  precious  little  folks/ 
quoth  King  Midas,  diligently  trotting  the  children  all  the 
while,  *  ever  since  that  morning,  I  have  hated  the  very 
sight  of  all  other  gold,  save  this  1 ' 


SHADOW   BROOK 


AFTER  THE  STORY 

'ELL,  children,'  inquired  Eustace,  who  was  very 
fond  of  eliciting  a  definite  opinion  from  his 
auditors, c  did  you  ever,  in  all  your  lives,  listen 
to  a  better  story  than  this  of  "  The  Golden  Touch  "  ?  ' 

c  Why,  as  to  the  story  of  King  Midas/  said  saucy 
Primrose,  '  it  was  a  famous  one  thousands  of  years  before 
Mr.  Eustace  Bright  came  into  the  world,  and  will  continue 

68 


w 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

to  be  so  as  long  after  he  quits  it.  But  some  people  have 
what  we  may  call  "  The  Leaden  Touch,"  and  make  every- 
thing dull  and  heavy  that  they  lay  their  fingers  upon/ 

*  You  are  a  smart  child,  Primrose,  to  be  not  yet  in  your 
teens/  said  Eustace,  taken  rather  aback  by  the  piquancy 
of  her  criticism.    *  But  you  well  know,  in  your  naughty 
little  heart,  that  I  have  burnished  the  old  gold  of  Midas  all 
over  anew,  and  have  made  it  shine  as  it  never  shone  before. 
And  then  that  figure  of  Marygold  !    Do  you  perceive  no 
nice  workmanship  in  that  ?    And  how  finely  I  have  brought 
out  and  deepened  the  moral !    What  say  you,  Sweet  Fern, 
Dandelion,  Clover,  Periwinkle  ?    Would  any  of  you,  after 
hearing  this  story,  be  so  foolish  as  to  desire  the  faculty  of 
changing  things  to  gold  ?  ' 

'  I  should  like/  said  Periwinkle,  a  girl  of  ten,  *  to  have 
the  power  of  turning  everything  to  gold  with  my  right 
forefinger  ;  but,  with  my  left  forefinger,  I  should  want  the 
power  of  changing  it  back  again,  if  the  first  change  did  not 
please  me.  And  I  know  what  I  would  do,  this  very 
afternoon  !  ' 

*  Pray  tell  me/  said  Eustace. 

'  Why/  answered  Periwinkle,  *  I  would  touch  every  one 
of  these  golden  leaves  on  the  trees  with  my  left  forefinger, 
and  make  them  all  green  again ;  so  that  we  might  have 
the  summer  back  at  once,  with  no  ugly  winter  in  the 
meantime.' 

*  O  Periwinkle  ! '    cried  Eustace  Bright,  *  there  you 
are  wrong,  and  would  do  a  great  deal  of  mischief.    Were 
I  Midas,  I  would  make  nothing  else  but  just  such  golden 
days  as  these  over  and  over  again,  all  the  year  throughout. 
My  best  thoughts  always  come  a  little  too  late.    Why  did 

69 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

not  I  tell  you  how  old  King  Midas  came  to  America,  and 
changed  the  dusky  autumn,  such  as  it  is  in  other  countries, 
into  the  burnished  beauty  which  it  here  puts  on  ?  He 
gilded  the  leaves  of  the  great  volume  of  Nature.' 

*  Cousin  Eustace/  said  Sweet  Fern,  a  good  little  boy, 
who  was  always  making  particular  inquiries  about  the 
precise  height  of  giants  and  the  littleness  of  fairies,  *  how 
big  was  Marygold,  and  how  much  did  she  weigh  after  she 
was  turned  to  gold  ?  ' 

*  She  was  about  as  tall  as  you  are,'  replied  Eustace, 
*  and,  as  gold  is  very  heavy,  she  weighed  at  least  two 
thousand  pounds,  and  might  have  been  coined  into  thirty 
or  forty  thousand  gold  dollars.    I  wish  Primrose  were 
worth  half  as  much.    Come,  little  people,  let  us  clamber 
out  of  the  dell,  and  look  about  us.1 

They  did  so.  The  sun  was  now  an  hour  or  two  beyond 
its  noontide  mark,  and  filled  the  great  hollow  of  the  valley 
with  its  western  radiance,  so  that  it  seemed  to  be  brimming 
with  mellow  light,  and  to  spill  it  over  the  surrounding 
hill-sides,  like  golden  wine  out  of  a  bowl.  It  was  such  a 
day  that  you  could  not  help  saying  of  it,  *  There  never  was 
such  a  day  before  ! '  although  yesterday  was  just  such  a 
day,  and  to-morrow  will  be  just  such  another.  Ah,  but 
there  are  very  few  of  them  in  a  twelvemonth's  circle  !  It 
is  a  remarkable  peculiarity  of  these  October  days,  that 
each  of  them  seems  to  occupy  a  great  deal  of  space, 
although  the  sun  rises  rather  tardily  at  that  season  of  the 
year,  and  goes  to  bed,  as  little  children  ought,  at  sober 
six  o'clock,  or  even  earlier.  We  cannot,  therefore,  call 
the  days  long  ;  but  they  appear,  somehow  or  other,  to 
make  up  for  their  shortness  by  their  breadth  ;  and  when 

70 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH 

the  cool  night  comes,  we  are  conscious  of  having  enjoyed 
a  big  armful  of  life,  since  morning. 

*  Come,  children,  come  !  '  cried  Eustace  Bright.  '  More 
nuts,  more  nuts,  more  nuts  !  Fill  all  your  baskets  ;  and, 
at  Christmas  time,  I  will  crack  them  for  you,  and  tell  you 
beautiful  stories  !  ' 

So  away  they  went ;  all  of  them  in  excellent  spirits, 
except  little  Dandelion,  who,  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,  had 
been  sitting  on  a  chestnut-bur,  and  was  stuck  as  full  as  a 
pincushion  of  its  prickles.  Dear  me,  how  uncomfortably 
he  must  have  felt  1 


THE   PARADISE   OF   CHILDREN 


TANGLEWOOD  PLAYROOM 

INTRODUCTORY  TO 
'THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN' 


I 


"\HE  golden  days  of  October  passed  away,  as  so 
many  other  Octobers  have,  and  brown  November 
likewise,  and  the  greater  part  of  chill  December 
too.  At  last  came  merry  Christmas,  and  Eustace  Bright 
along  with  it,  making  it  all  the  merrier  by  his  presence. 
And,  the  day  after  his  arrival  from  college,  there  came  a 
mighty  snowstorm.  Up  to  this  tinre,  the  winter  had  held 
back,  and  had  given  us  a  good  many  mild  days,  which 
were  like  smiles  upon  its  wrinkled  visage.  The  grass  had 
kept  itself  green,  in  sheltered  places,  such  as  the  nooks  of 
southern  hill-slopes,  and  along  the  lee  of  the  stone  fences. 
It  was  but  a  week  or  two  ago,  and  since  the  beginning  of 
the  month,  that  the  children  had  found  a  dandelion  in 

75 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

bloom,  on  the  margin  of  Shadow  Brook,  where  it  glides 
out  of  the  dell. 

But  no  more  green  grass  and  dandelions  now.  This 
was  such  a  snowstorm  !  Twenty  miles  of  it  might  have 
been  visible  at  once,  between  the  windows  of  Tanglewood 
and  the  dome  of  Taconic,  had  it  been  possible  to  see  so 
far  among  the  eddying  drifts  that  whitened  all  the  atmo- 
sphere. It  seemed  as  if  the  hills  were  giants,  and  were 
flinging  monstrous  handfuls  of  snow  at  one  another,  in 
their  enormous  sport.  So  thick  were  the  fluttering  snow- 
flakes,  that  even  the  trees,  midway  down  the  valley,  were 
hidden  by  them  the  greater  part  of  the  time.  Sometimes, 
it  is  true,  the  little  prisoners  of  Tanglewood  could  discern 
a  dim  outline  of  Monument  Mountain,  and  the  smooth 
whiteness  of  the  frozen  lake  at  its  base,  and  the  black  01 
gray  tracts  of  woodland  in  the  nearer  landscape.  But  these 
were  merely  peeps  through  the  tempest. 

Nevertheless,  the  children  rejoiced  greatly  in  the  snow- 
storm. They  had  already  made  acquaintance  with  it, 
by  tumbling  heels  over  head  into  its  highest  drifts,  and 
flinging  snow  at  one  another,  as  we  have  just  fancied  the 
Berkshire  mountains  to  be  doing.  And  now  they  had 
come  back  to  their  spacious  play-room,  which  was  as  big 
as  the  great  drawing-room,  and  was  lumbered  with  all 
sorts  of  playthings,  large  and  small.  The  biggest  was  a 
rocking-horse  that  looked  like  a  real  pony  ;  and  there  was 
a  whole  family  of  wooden,  waxen,  plaster,  and  china  dolls, 
besides  rag-babies  ;  and  blocks  enough  to  build  Bunker 
Hill  Monument,  and  nine-pins,  and  balls,  and  humming- 
tops,  and  battledores,  and  gracesticks,  and  skipping-ropes, 
and  more  of  such  valuable  property  than  I  could  tell  of  in 

76 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

a  printed  page.  But  the  children  liked  the  snowstorm 
better  than  them  all.  It  suggested  so  many  brisk  enjoy- 
ments for  to-morrow,  and  all  the  remainder  of  the  winter. 
The  sleigh-ride  ;  the  slides  down  hill  into  the  valley  ;  the 
snow-images  that  were  to  be  shaped  out ;  the  snow- 
fortresses  that  were  to  be  built ;  and  the  snowballing  to  be 
carried  on  ! 

So  the  little  folks  blessed  the  snowstorm,  and  were 
glad  to  see  it  come  thicker  and  thicker,  and  watched  hope- 
fully the  long  drift  that  was  piling  itself  up  in  the  avenue, 
and  was  already  higher  than  any  of  their  heads. 

*  Why,  we  shall  be  blocked  up  till  spring  ! '  cried  they, 
with  the  hugest  delight.    *  What  a  pity  that  the  house  is 
too  high  to  be  quite  covered  up  !    The  little  red  house, 
down  yonder,  will  be  buried  up  to  its  eaves.' 

1  You  silly  children,  what  do  you  want  of  more  snow  ? ' 
asked  Eustace,  who,  tired  of  some  novel  that  he  was 
skimming  through,  had  strolled  into  the  play-room.  '  It 
has  done  mischief  enough  already  by  spoiling  the  only 
skating  that  I  could  hope  for  through  the  winter.  We  shall 
see  nothing  more  of  the  lake  till  April ;  and  this  was  to 
have  been  my  first  day  upon  it !  Don't  you  pity  me, 
Primrose  ?  ' 

*  Oh,    to    be    sure ! '     answered    Primrose,    laughing. 
'  But,  for  your  comfort,  we  will  listen  to  another  of  your 
old  stories,  such  as  you  told  us  under  the  porch,  and  down 
in  the  hollow,  by  Shadow  Brook.    Perhaps  I  shall  like 
them  better  now,  when  there  is  nothing  to  do,  than  while 
there  were  nuts  to  be  gathered,  and  beautiful  weather  to 
enjoy.' 

Hereupon,   Periwinkle,   Clover,   Sweet   Fern,   and   as 

77 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

many  others  of  the  little  fraternity  and  cousinhood  as 
were  still  at  Tanglewood,  gathered  about  Eustace,  and 
earnestly  besought  him  for  a  story.  The  student  yawned, 
stretched  himself,  and  then,  to  the  vast  admiration  of  the 
small  people,  skipped  three  times  back  and  forth  over  the 
top  of  a  chair,  in  order,  as  he  explained  to  them,  to  set  his 
wits  in  motion. 

*  Well,  well,  children,'  said  he,  after  these  preliminaries, 
*  since  you  insist,  and  Primrose  has  set  her  heart  upon  it, 
I  will  see  what  can  be  done  for  you.    And,  that  you  may 
know  what  happy  days   there  were  before   snowstorms 
came  into  fashion,  I  will  tell  you  a  story  of  the  oldest  of  all 
old  times,  when  the  world  was  as  new  as  Sweet  Fern's  brand- 
new  humming-top.    There  was  then  but  one  season  in 
the  year,  and  that  was  the  delightful  summer  ;  and  but  one 
age  for  mortals,  and  that  was  childhood.' 

*  I  never  heard  of  that  before,'  said  Primrose. 

*  Of  course,  you  never  did,'  answered  Eustace.    '  It 
shall  be  a  story  of  what  nobody  but  myself  ever  dreamed 
of, — a  Paradise  of  children, — and  how,  by  the  naughtiness 
of  just  such  a  little  imp  as  Primrose  here,  it  all  came  to 
nothing.' 

So  Eustace  Bright  sat  down  in  the  chair  which  he  had 
just  been  skipping  over,  took  Cowslip  upon  his  knee, 
ordered  silence  throughout  the  auditory,  and  began  a 
story  about  a  sad  naughty  child,  whose  name  was  Pandora, 
and  about  her  playfellow  Epimetheus.  You  may  read  it, 
word  for  word,  in  the  pages  that  come  next. 


THE   PARADISE 
OF    CHILDREN 

EJG,  long  ago,  when  this   old  world   was    in    its 
tender    infancy,    there    was     a    child,    named 
Epimetheus,   who    never   had   either   father    or 
mother  ;   and,  that  he  might  not  be  lonely,  another  child, 
fatherless  and  motherless  like  himself,  was  sent  from  a  far 
country,  to  live  with  him,  and  be  his  playfellow  and  help- 
mate.   Her  name  was  Pandora. 

The  first  thing  that  Pandora  saw,  when  she  entered 
the  cottage  where  Epimetheus  dwelt,  was  a  great  box. 
And  almost  the  first  question  which  she  put  to  him,  after 
crossing  the  threshold,  was  this, — 

'  Epimetheus,  what  have  you  in  that  box  ? ' 
'  My  dear  little  Pandora,*  answered  Epimetheus,  '  that 
is  a  secret,  and  you  must  be  kind  enough  not  to  ask  any 

79 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

questions  about  it.    The  box  was  left  here  to  be  kept 
safely,  and  I  do  not  myself  know  what  it  contains.' 

*  But  who  gave  it  to  you  ?  '    asked  Pandora.    *  And 
where  did  it  come  from  ?  ' 

1  That  is  a  secret  too/  replied  Epimetheus. 
'  How  provoking  !  '    exclaimed  Pandora,  pouting  her 
lip.    'I  wish  the  great  ugly  box  were  out  of  the  way  ! ' 

*  Oh  come,  don't  think  of  it  any  more/  cried  Epimetheus. 
*  Let  us  run  out  of  doors,  and  have  some  nice  play  with  the 
other  children.' 

It  is  thousands  of  years  since  Epimetheus  and  Pandora 
were  alive  ;  and  the  world,  nowadays,  is  a  very  different 
sort  of  thing  from  what  it  was  in  their  time.  Then, 
everybody  was  a  child.  There  needed  no  fathers  and 
mothers  to  take  care  of  the  children  ;  because  there  was  no 
danger,  nor  trouble  of  any  kind,  and  no  clothes  to  be 
mended,  and  there  was  always  plenty  to  eat  and  drink. 
Whenever  a  child  wanted  his  dinner,  he  found  it  growing 
on  a  tree  ;  and,  if  he  looked  at  the  tree  in  the  morning, 
he  could  see  the  expanding  blossom  of  that  night's  supper  ; 
or,  at  eventide,  he  saw  the  tender  bud  of  to-morrow's 
breakfast.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  life  indeed.  No  labour 
to  be  done,  no  tasks  to  be  studied  ;  nothing  but  sports  and 
dances,  and  sweet  voices  of  children  talking,  or  carolling 
like  birds,  or  gushing  out  in  merry  laughter,  throughout 
the  livelong  day. 

What  was  most  wonderful  of  all,  the  children  never 
quarrelled  among  themselves ;  neither  had  they  any 
crying  fits  ;  nor,  since  time  first  began,  had  a  single  one 
of  these  little  mortals  ever  gone  apart  into  a  corner,  and 
sulked.  Oh,  what  a  good  time  was  that  to  be  alive  in  ! 

80 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

The  truth  is,  those  ugly  little  winged  monsters,  called 
Troubles,  which  are  now  almost  as  numerous  as  mosquitoes, 
had  never  yet  been  seen  on  the  earth.  It  is  probable  that 
the  very  greatest  disquietude  which  a  child  had  ever 
experienced  was  Pandora's  vexation  at  not  being  able  to 
discover  the  secret  of  the  mysterious  box. 

This  was  at  first  only  the  faint  shadow  of  a  Trouble  ; 
but,  every  day,  it  grew  more  and  more  substantial,  until, 
before  a  great  while,  the  cottage  of  Epimetheus  and 
Pandora  was  less  sunshiny  than  those  of  the  other  children. 

*  Whence  can  the  box  have  come  ?  '    Pandora  con- 
tinually kept  saying  to  herself  and  to  Epimetheus,  '  And 
what  in  the  world  can  be  inside  of  it  ? ' 

*  Always  talking  about  this  box  ! '    said  Epimetheus, 
at  last ;   for  he  had  grown  extremely  tired  of  the  subject. 

*  I  wish,  dear  Pandora,  you  would  try  to  talk  of  something 
else.    Come,  let  us  go  and  gather  some  ripe  figs,  and  eat 
them  under  the  trees,  for  our  supper.    And  I  know  a  vine 
that  has  the  sweetest  and  juiciest  grapes  you  ever  tasted.' 

*  Always    talking    about    grapes    and    figs !  '     cried 
Pandora  pettishly. 

*  Well,  then/  said  Epimetheus,  who  was  a  very  good- 
tempered   child,  like   a   multitude   of  children  in  those 
days,  *  let  us  run  out  and  have  a  merry  time  with  our 
playmates/ 

*  I  am  tired  of  merry  times,  and  don't  care  if  I  never 
have  any  more  ! '    answered  our  pettish  little  Pandora. 

*  And,  besides,  I  never  do  have  any.    This  ugly  box  !     I 
am  so  taken  up  with  thinking  about  it  all  the  time.    I 
insist  upon  your  telling  me  what  is  inside  of  it/ 

'  As  I  have  already  said,  fifty  times  over,  I  do  not 
L  81 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

know  ! '  replied  Epimetheus,  getting  a  little  vexed.    *  How, 
then,  can  I  tell  you  what  is  inside  ?  ' 

'  You  might  open  it/  said  Pandora,  looking  sideways  at 
Epimetheus, '  and  then  we  could  see  for  ourselves/ 

*  Pandora,    what    are    you    thinking    of  ?  '     exclaimed 
Epimetheus. 

And  his  face  expressed  so  much  horror  at  the  idea  of 
looking  into  a  box,  which  had  been  confided  to  him  on 
the  condition  of  his  never  opening  it,  that  Pandora  thought 
it  best  not  to  suggest  it  any  more.  Still,  however,  she  could 
not  help  thinking  and  talking  about  the  box. 

*  At  least/  said  she,  *  you  can  tell  me  how  it  came 
here.' 

'  It  was  left  at  the  door/  replied  Epimetheus,  *  just 
before  you  came,  by  a  person  who  looked  very  smiling  and 
intelligent,  and  who  could  hardly  forbear  laughing  as  he 
put  it  down.  He  was  dressed  in  an  odd  kind  of  a  cloak, 
and  had  on  a  cap  that  seemed  to  be  made  partly  of  feathers, 
so  that  it  looked  almost  as  if  it  had  wings.' 

*  What  sort  of  a  staff  had  he  ?  '  asked  Pandora. 

*  Oh,  the  most  curious  staff  you  ever  saw  ! '    cried 
Epimetheus.    *  It  was  like  two  serpents  twisting  around 
a  stick,  and  was  carved  so  naturally  that  I,  at  first,  thought 
the  serpents  were  alive.' 

*  I  know  him/  said  Pandora  thoughtfully.    '  Nobody 
else  has  such  a  staff.    It  was  Quicksilver  ;  and  he  brought 
me  hither,  as  well  as  the  box.    No  doubt  he  intended  it 
for  me  ;    and,  most  probably,  it  contains  pretty  dresses 
for  me  to  wear,  or  toys  for  you  and  me  to  play  with,  or 
something  very  nice  for  us  both  to  eat ! ' 

*  Perhaps   so/   answered   Epimetheus,   turning   away. 

82 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

*  But  until  Quicksilver  comes  back  and  tells  us  so,  we  have 
neither  of  us  any  right  to  lift  the  lid  of  the  box.' 

*  What  a  dull  boy  he  is  ! '  muttered  Pandora,  as 
Epimetheus  left  the  cottage.  '  I  do  wish  he  had  a  little 
more  enterprise  ! ' 

For  the  first  time  since  her  arrival,  Epimetheus  had 
gone  out  without  asking  Pandora  to  accompany  him.  He 
went  to  gather  figs  and  grapes  by  himself,  or  to  seek  what- 
ever amusement  he  could  find,  in  other  society  than  his 
little  playfellow's.  He  was  tired  to  death  of  hearing  about 
the  box,  and  heartily  wished  that  Quicksilver,  or  whatever 
was  the  messenger's  name,  had  left  it  at  some  other  child's 
door,  where  Pandora  would  never  have  set  eyes  on  it.  So 
perseveringly  as  she  did  babble  about  this  one  thing  ! 
The  box,  the  box,  and  nothing  but  the  box  !  It  seemed  as 
if  the  box  were  bewitched,  and  as  if  the  cottage  were  not 
big  enough  to  hold  it,  without  Pandora's  continually 
stumbling  over  it,  and  making  Epimetheus  stumble  over 
it  likewise,  and  bruising  all  four  of  their  shins. 

Well,  it  was  really  hard  that  poor  Epimetheus  should 
have  a  box  in  his  ears  from  morning  till  night ;  especially 
as  the  little  people  of  the  earth  were  so  unaccustomed  to 
vexations,  in  those  happy  days,  that  they  knew  not  how 
to  deal  with  them.  Thus,  a  small  vexation  made  as  much 
disturbance  then,  as  a  far  bigger  one  would  in  our  own 
times. 

After  Epimetheus  was  gone,  Pandora  stood  gazing  at 
the  box.  She  had  called  it  ugly,  above  a  hundred  times  ; 
but,  in  spite  of  all  that  she  had  said  against  it,  it  was 
positively  a  very  handsome  article  of  furniture,  and  would 
have  been  quite  an  ornament  to  any  room  in  which  it 

83 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

should  be  placed.  It  was  made  of  a  beautiful  kind  of  wood, 
with  dark  and  rich  veins  spreading  over  its  surface,  which 
was  so  highly  polished  that  little  Pandora  could  see  her 
face  in  it.  As  the  child  had  no  other  looking-glass,  it  is 
odd  that  she  did  not  value  the  box,  merely  on  this 
account. 

The  edges  and  corners  of  the  box  were  carved  with 
most  wonderful  skill.  Around  the  margin  there  were 
figures  of  graceful  men  and  women,  and  the  prettiest 
children  ever  seen,  reclining  or  sporting  amid  a  profusion 
of  flowers  and  foliage  ;  and  these  various  objects  were  so 
exquisitely  represented,  and  were  wrought  together  in 
such  harmony,  that  flowers,  foliage,  and  human  beings 
seemed  to  combine  into  a  wreath  of  mingled  beauty.  But 
here  and  there,  peeping  forth  from  behind  the  carved 
foliage,  Pandora  once  or  twice  fancied  that  she  saw  a  face 
not  so  lovely,  or  something  or  other  that  was  disagreeable, 
and  which  stole  the  beauty  out  of  all  the  rest.  Never- 
theless, on  looking  more  closely,  and  touching  the  spot 
with  her  finger,  she  could  discover  nothing  of  the  kind. 
Some  face,  that  was  really  beautiful,  had  been  made  to 
look  ugly  by  her  catching  a  sideway  glimpse  at  it. 

The  most  beautiful  face  of  all  was  done  in  what  is 
called  high  relief,  in  the  centre  of  the  lid.  There  was 
nothing  else,  save  the  dark,  smooth  richness  of  the  polished 
wood,  and  this  one  face  in  the  centre,  with  a  garland  of 
flowers  about  its  brow.  Pandora  had  looked  at  this  face 
a  great  many  times,  and  imagined  that  the  mouth  could 
smile  if  it  liked,  or  be  grave  when  it  chose,  the  same  as  any 
living  mouth.  The  features,  indeed,  all  wore  a  very  lively 
and  rather  mischievous  expression,  which  looked  almost 

84 


Oh  what  a  good  time  was  that  to  be  alive  in 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

as  if  it  needs  must  burst  out  of  the  carved  lips,  and  utter 
itself  in  words. 

Had  the  mouth  spoken,  it  would  probably  have  been 
something  like  this  : 

'  Do  not  be  afraid,  Pandora  !  What  harm  can  there  be 
in  opening  the  box  ?  Never  mind  that  poor,  simple 
Epimetheus  !  You  are  wiser  than  he,  and  have  ten  times 
as  much  spirit.  Open  the  box,  and  see  if  you  do  not  find 
something  very  pretty  !  ' 

The  box,  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  say,  was  fastened  ; 
not  by  a  lock,  nor  by  any  other  such  contrivance,  but  by 
a  very  intricate  knot  of  gold  cord.  There  appeared  to  be 
no  end  to  this  knot,  and  no  beginning.  Never  was  a  knot 
so  cunningly  twisted,  nor  with  so  many  ins  and  outs,  which 
roguishly  defied  the  skilfullest  fingers  to  disentangle  them. 
And  yet,  by  the  very  difficulty  that  there  was  in  it,  Pandora 
was  the  more  tempted  to  examine  the  knot,  and  just  see 
how  it  was  made.  Two  or  three  times,  already,  she  had 
stooped  over  the  box,  and  taken  the  knot  between  her 
thumb  and  forefinger,  but  without  positively  trying  to 
undo  it. 

'  I  really  believe,'  said  she  to  herself,  *  that  I  begin  to 
see  how  it  was  done.  Nay,  perhaps  I  could  tie  it  up  again, 
after  undoing  it.  There  would  be  no  harm  in  that,  surely. 
Even  Epimetheus  would  not  blame  me  for  that.  I  need 
not  open  the  box,  and  should  not,  of  course,  without  the 
foolish  boy's  consent,  even  if  the  knot  were  untied.' 

It  might  have  been  better  for  Pandora  if  she  had  had 
a  little  work  to  do,  or  anything  to  employ  her  mind  upon, 
so  as  not  to  be  so  constantly  thinking  of  this  one  subject. 
But  children  led  so  easy  a  life,  before  any  Troubles  came 

85 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

into  the  world,  that  they  had  really  a  great  deal  too  much 
leisure.  They  could  not  be  for  ever  playing  at  hide-and- 
seek  among  the  flower-shrubs,  or  at  blind-man's-buff  with 
garlands  over  their  eyes,  or  at  whatever  other  games  had 
been  found  out,  while  Mother  Earth  was  in  her  babyhood. 
When  life  is  all  sport,  toil  is  the  real  play.  There  was 
absolutely  nothing  to  do.  A  little  sweeping  and  dusting 
about  the  cottage,  I  suppose,  and  the  gathering  of  fresh 
flowers  (which  were  only  too  abundant  everywhere),  and 
arranging  them  in  vases, — and  poor  little  Pandora's  day's 
work  was  over.  And  then,  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  there  was 
the  box  ! 

After  all,  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  the  box  was  not  a 
blessing  to  her  in  its  way.  It  supplied  her  with  such  a 
variety  of  ideas  to  think  of,  and  to  talk  about,  whenever 
she  had  anybody  to  listen  !  When  she  was  in  good- 
humour,  she  could  admire  the  bright  polish  of  its  sides, 
and  the  rich  border  of  beautiful  faces  and  foliage  that  ran 
all  around  it.  Or,  if  she  chanced  to  be  ill-tempered,  she 
could  give  it  a  push,  or  kick  it  with  her  naughty  little  foot. 
And  many  a  kick  did  the  box — (but  it  was  a  mischievous 
box,  as  we  shall  see,  and  deserved  all  it  got) — many  a  kick 
did  it  receive.  But  certain  it  is,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
box,  our  active-minded  little  Pandora  would  not  have 
known  half  so  well  how  to  spend  her  time  as  she  now  did. 

For  it  was  really  an  endless  employment  to  guess  what 
was  inside.  What  could  it  be,  indeed  ?  Just  imagine, 
my  little  hearers,  how  busy  your  wits  would  be,  if  there 
were  a  great  box  in  the  house,  which,  as  you  might  have 
reason  to  suppose,  contained  something  new  and  pretty 
for  your  Christmas  or  New- Year's  gifts.  Do  you  think 

86 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

that  you  should  be  less  curious  than  Pandora  ?  If  you 
were  left  alone  with  the  box,  might  you  not  feel  a  little 
tempted  to  lift  the  lid  ?  But  you  would  not  do  it.  Oh, 
fie  !  No,  no  !  Only,  if  you  thought  there  were  toys  in  it, 
it  would  be  so  very  hard  to  let  slip  an  opportunity  of  taking 
just  one  peep  !  I  know  not  whether  Pandora  expected 
any  toys  ;  for  none  had  yet  begun  to  be  made,  probably, 
in  those  days,  when  the  world  itself  was  one  great  plaything 
for  the  children  that  dwelt  upon  it.  But  Pandora  was 
convinced  that  there  was  something  very  beautiful  and 
valuable  in  the  box  ;  and  therefore  she  felt  just  as  anxious 
to  take  a  peep  as  any  of  these  little  girls,  here  around  me, 
would  have  felt.  And,  possibly,  a  little  more  so  ;  but  of 
that  I  am  not  quite  so  certain. 

On  this  particular  day,  however,  which  we  have  so 
long  been  talking  about,  her  curiosity  grew  so  much  greater 
than  it  usually  was,  that,  at  last,  she  approached  the  box. 
She  was  more  than  half  determined  to  open  it,  if  she  could. 
Ah,  naughty  Pandora  ! 

First,  however,  she  tried  to  lift  it.  It  was  heavy  ;  quite 
too  heavy  for  the  slender  strength  of  a  child,  like  Pandora. 
She  raised  one  end  of  the  box  a  few  inches  from  the  floor, 
and  let  it  fall  again,  with  a  pretty  loud  thump.  A  moment 
afterwards,  she  almost  fancied  that  she  heard  something  stir 
inside  of  the  box.  She  applied  her  ear  as  closely  as  possible 
and  listened.  Positively,  there  did  seem  to  be  a  kind  of 
stifled  murmur,  within  !  Or  was  it  merely  the  singing  in 
Pandora's  ears  ?  Or  could  it  be  the  beating  of  her  heart  ? 
The  child  could  not  quite  satisfy  herself  whether  she  had 
heard  anything  or  no.  But,  at  all  events,  her  curiosity  was 
stronger  than  ever. 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

As  she  drew  back  her  head,  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  knot 
of  gold  cord. 

'  It  must  have  been  a  very  ingenious  person  who  tied 
this  knot/  said  Pandora  to  herself.  '  But  I  think  I  could 
untie  it  nevertheless.  I  am  resolved,  at  least,  to  find  the 
two  ends  of  the  cord.' 

So  she  took  the  golden  knot  in  her  fingers,  and  pried 
into  its  intricacies  as  sharply  as  she  could.  Almost  without 
intending  it,  or  quite  knowing  what  she  was  about,  she 
was  soon  busily  engaged  in  attempting  to  undo  it.  Mean- 
while, the  bright  sunshine  came  through  the  open  window  ; 
as  did  likewise  the  merry  voices  of  the  children,  playing  at 
a  distance,  and  perhaps  the  voice  of  Epimetheus  among 
them.  Pandora  stopped  to  listen.  What  a  beautiful  day 
it  was  !  Would  it  not  be  wiser  if  she  were  to  let  the 
troublesome  knot  alone,  and  think  no  more  about  the  box, 
but  run  and  join  her  little  playfellows,  and  be  happy  ? 

All  this  time,  however,  her  fingers  were  half  uncon- 
sciously busy  with  the  knot ;  and  happening  to  glance  at 
the  flower-wreathed  face  on  the  lid  of  the  enchanted  box, 
she  seemed  to  perceive  it  slyly  grinning  at  her. 

1  That  face  looks  very  mischievous/  thought  Pandora. 
'  I  wonder  whether  it  smiles  because  I  am  doing  wrong  ! 
I  have  the  greatest  mind  in  the  world  to  run  away  ! ' 

But  just  then,  by  the  merest  accident,  she  gave  the  knot 
a  kind  of  a  twist,  which  produced  a  wonderful  result.  The 
gold  cord  untwined  itself,  as  if  by  magic,  and  left  the  box 
without  a  fastening. 

1  This  is  the  strangest  thing  I  ever  knew ! '  said 
Pandora.  *  What  will  Epimetheus  say  ?  And  how  can 
I  possibly  tie  it  up  again  ?  ' 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

She  made  one  or  two  attempts  to  restore  the  knot,  but 
soon  found  it  quite  beyond  her  skill.  It  had  disentangled 
itself  so  suddenly  that  she  could  not  in  the  least  remember 
how  the  strings  had  been  doubled  into  one  another  ;  and 
when  she  tried  to  recollect  the  shape  and  appearance  of  the 
knot,  it  seemed  to  have  gone  entirely  out  of  her  mind. 
Nothing  was  to  be  done,  therefore,  but  to  let  the  box  remain 
as  it  was  until  Epimetheus  should  come  in. 

*  But,'  said  Pandora,  *  when  he  finds  the  knot  untied, 
he  will  know  that  I  have  done  it.    How  shall  I  make  him 
believe  that  I  have  not  looked  into  the  box  ?  ' 

And  then  the  thought  came  into  her  naughty  little 
heart,  that,  since  she  would  be  suspected  of  having  looked 
into  the  box,  she  might  just  as  well  do  so  at  once.  Oh, 
very  naughty  and  very  foolish  Pandora  !  You  should  have 
thought  only  of  doing  what  was  right,  and  of  leaving  un- 
done what  was  wrong,  and  not  of  what  your  playfellow 
Epimetheus  would  have  said  or  believed.  And  so  perhaps 
she  might,  if  the  enchanted  face  on  the  lid  of  the  box  had 
not  looked  so  bewitchingly  persuasive  at  her,  and  if  she 
had  not  seemed  to  hear,  more  distinctly,  than  before,  the 
murmur  of  small  voices  within.  She  could  not  tell  whether 
it  was  fancy  or  no  ;  but  there  was  quite  a  little  tumult  of 
whispers  in  her  ears, — or  else  it  was  her  curiosity  that 
whispered, — 

*  Let  us  out,  dear   Pandora, — pray  let  us  out !    We 
will  be  such  nice  pretty  playfellows  for  you  !    Only  let 
us  out ! ' 

*  What  can  it  be  ?  '  thought  Pandora.    *  Is  there  some- 
thing alive  in  the  box  ?    Well  ! — yes  ! — I  am  resolved  to 
take  just  one  peep  !    Only  one  peep  ;    and  then  the  lid 

M  80 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

shall  be  shut  down  as  safely  as  ever  !  There  cannot 
possibly  be  any  harm  in  just  one  little  peep  ! ' 

But  it  is  now  time  for  us  to  see  what  Epimetheus  was 
doing. 

This  was  the  first  time,  since  his  little  playmate  had 
come  to  dwell  with  him,  that  he  had  attempted  to  enjoy 
any  pleasure  in  which  she  did  not  partake.  But  nothing 
went  right ;  nor  was  he  nearly  so  happy  as  on  other  days. 
He  could  not  find  a  sweet  grape  or  a  ripe  fig  (if  Epimetheus 
had  a  fault,  it  was  a  little  too  much  fondness  for  figs)  ;  or, 
if  ripe  at  all,  they  were  over-ripe,  and  so  sweet  as  to  be 
cloying.  There  was  no  mirth  in  his  heart,  such  as  usually 
made  his  voice  gush  out,  of  its  own  accord,  and  swell  the 
merriment  of  his  companions.  In  short,  he  grew  so  uneasy 
and  discontented,  that  the  other  children  could  not  imagine 
what  was  the  matter  with  Epimetheus.  Neither  did  he 
himself  know  what  ailed  him,  any  better  than  they  did. 
For  you  must  recollect  that,  at  the  time  we  are  speaking  of, 
it  was  everybody's  nature,  and  constant  habit  to  be  happy. 
The  world  had  not  yet  learned  to  be  otherwise.  Not  a 
single  soul  or  body,  since  these  children  were  first  sent  to 
enjoy  themselves  on  the  beautiful  earth,  had  ever  been  sick 
or  out  of  sorts. 

At  length,  discovering  that,  somehow  or  other,  he  put  a 
stop  to  all  the  play,  Epimetheus  judged  it  best  to  go  back 
to  Pandora,  who  was  in  a  humour  better  suited  to  his  own. 
But,  with  a  hope  of  giving  her  pleasure,  he  gathered  some 
flowers,  and  made  them  into  a  wreath,  which  he  meant  to 
put  upon  her  head.  The  flowers  were  very  lovely, — roses, 
and  lilies,  and  orange-blossoms,  and  a  great  many  more, 
which  left  a  trail  of  fragrance  behind,  as  Epimetheus  carried 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

them  along  ;  and  the  wreath  was  put  together  with  as 
much  skill  as  could  reasonably  be  expected  of  a  boy.  The 
ringers  of  little  girls,  it  has  always  appeared  to  me,  are  the 
fittest  to  twine  flower-wreaths  ;  but  boys  could  do  it,  in 
those  days,  rather  better  than  they  can  now. 

And  here  I  must  mention  that  a  great  black  cloud  had 
been  gathering  in  the  sky,  for  some  time  past,  although  it 
had  not  yet  overspread  the  sun.  But,  just  as  Epimetheus 
reached  the  cottage  door,  this  cloud  began  to  intercept 
the  sunshine,  and  thus  to  make  a  sudden  and  sad  obscurity. 

He  entered  softly  ;  for  he  meant,  if  possible,  to  steal 
behind  Pandora,  and  fling  the  wreath  of  flowers  over 
her  head,  before  she  should  be  aware  of  his  approach. 
But,  as  it  happened,  there  was  no  need  of  his  treading  so 
very  lightly.  He  might  have  trod  as  heavily  as  he  pleased, — 
as  heavily  as  a  grown  man, — as  heavily,  I  was  going  to  say, 
as  an  elephant, — without  much  probability  of  Pandora's 
hearing  his  footsteps.  She  was  too  intent  upon  her  pur- 
pose. At  the  moment  of  his  entering  the  cottage,  the 
naughty  child  had  put  her  hand  to  the  lid,  and  was  on  the 
point  of  opening  the  mysterious  box.  Epimetheus  beheld 
her.  If  he  had  cried  out,  Pandora  would  probably  have 
withdrawn  her  hand,  and  the  fatal  mystery  of  the  box  might 
never  have  been  known. 

But  Epimetheus  himself,  although  he  said  very  little 
about  it,  had  his  own  share  of  curiosity  to  know  what  was 
inside.  Perceiving  that  Pandora  was  resolved  to  find  out 
the  secret,  he  determined  that  his  playfellow  should  not  be 
the  only  wise  person  in  the  cottage.  And  if  there  were 
anything  pretty  or  valuable  in  the  box,  he  meant  to  take 
half  of  it  to  himself.  Thus,  after  all  his  sage  speeches  to 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

Pandora  about  restraining  her  curiosity,  Epimetheus  turned 
out  to  be  quite  as  foolish,  and  nearly  as  much  in  fault,  as  she. 
So  whenever  we  blame  Pandora  for  what  happened,  we 
must  not  forget  to  shake  our  heads  at  Epimetheus  likewise. 

As  Pandora  raised  the  lid,  the  cottage  grew  very  dark 
and  dismal ;  for  the  black  cloud  had  now  swept  quite  over 
the  sun,  and  seemed  to  have  buried  it  alive.  There  had, 
for  a  little  while  past,  been  a  low  growling  and  muttering, 
which  all  at  once  broke  into  a  heavy  peal  of  thunder.  But 
Pandora,  heeding  nothing  of  all  this,  lifted  the  lid  nearly 
upright,  and  looked  inside.  It  seemed  as  if  a  sudden  swarm 
of  winged  creatures  brushed  past  her,  taking  flight  out  of 
the  box,  while,  at  the  same  instant,  she  heard  the  voice  of 
Epimetheus,  with  a  lamentable  tone,  as  if  he  were  in 
pain. 

*  Oh,  I  am  stung  !  '  cried  he.  'I  am  stung  !  Naughty 
Pandora  !  why  have  you  opened  this  wicked  box  ?  ' 

Pandora  let  fall  the  lid,  and,  starting  up,  looked  about 
her,  to  see  what  had  befallen  Epimetheus.  The  thunder- 
cloud had  so  darkened  the  room  that  she  could  not  very 
clearly  discern  what  was  in  it.  But  she  heard  a  disagreeable 
buzzing,  as  if  a  great  many  huge  flies,  or  gigantic  mosquitoes 
or  those  insects  which  we  call  dor-bugs,  and  pinching-dogs, 
were  darting  about.  And,  as  her  eyes  grew  more  accus- 
tomed to  the  imperfect  light,  she  saw  a  crowd  of  ugly  little 
shapes,  with  bats'  wings,  looking  abominably  spiteful,  and 
armed  with  terribly  long  stings  in  their  tails.  It  was  one 
of  these  that  had  stung  Epimetheus.  Nor  was  it  a  great 
while  before  Pandora  herself  began  to  scream,  in  no  less 
pain  and  affright  than  her  playfellow,  and  making  a  vast 
deal  more  hubbub  about  it.  An  odious  little  monster  had 

92 


A  sudden  swarm  of  winged  creatures  brushed  past  her 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

settled  on  her  forehead,  and  would  have  stung  her  I  know 
not  how  deeply,  if  Epimetheus  had  not  run  and  brushed  it 
away. 

Now,  if  you  wish  to  know  what  these  ugly  things  might 
be,  which  had  made  their  escape  out  of  the  box,  I  must  tell 
you  that  they  were  the  whole  family  of  earthly  Troubles. 
There  were  evil  Passions  ;  there  were  a  great  many  species 
of  Cares  ;  there  were  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty 
Sorrows  ;  there  were  Diseases  in  a  vast  number  of  miserable 
and  painful  shapes  ;  there  were  more  kinds  of  Naughtiness 
than  it  would  be  of  any  use  to  talk  about.  In  short,  every- 
thing that  has  since  afflicted  the  souls  and  bodies  of  man- 
kind had  been  shut  up  in  the  mysterious  box,  and  given 
to  Epimetheus  and  Pandora  to  be  kept  safely,  in  order 
that  the  happy  children  of  the  world  might  never  be 
molested  by  them.  Had  they  been  faithful  to  their  trust, 
all  would  have  gone  well.  No  grown  person  would  ever 
have  been  sad,  nor  any  child  have  had  cause  to  shed  a  single 
tear,  from  that  hour  until  this  moment. 

But — and  you  may  see  by  this  how  a  wrong  act  of  any 
one  mortal  is  a  calamity  to  the  whole  world — by  Pandora 's 
lifting  the  lid  of  that  miserable  box,  and  by  the  fault  of 
Epimetheus,  too,  in  not  preventing  her,  these  Troubles 
have  obtained  a  foothold  among  us,  and  do  not  seem  very 
likely  to  be  driven  away  in  a  hurry.  For  it  was  impossible, 
as  you  will  easily  guess,  that  the  two  children  should  keep 
the  ugly  swarm  in  their  own  little  cottage.  On  the  contrary, 
the  first  thing  that  they  did  was  to  fling  open  the  doors 
and  windows,  in  hopes  of  getting  rid  of  them  ;  and,  sure 
enough,  away  flew  the  winged  Troubles  all  abroad,  and  so 
pestered  and  tormented  the  small  people,  everywhere 

93 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

about,  that  none  of  them  so  much  as  smiled  for  many  days 
afterwards.  And,  what  was  very  singular,  all  the  flowers 
and  dewy  blossoms  on  earth,  not  one  of  which  had  hitherto 
faded,  now  began  to  droop  and  shed  their  leaves,  after  a 
day  or  two.  The  children,  moreover,  who  before  seemed 
immortal  in  their  childhood,  now  grew  older,  day  by  day, 
and  came  soon  to  be  youths  and  maidens,  and  men  and 
women  by  and  by,  and  aged  people,  before  they  dreamed 
of  such  a  thing. 

Meanwhile,  the  naughty  Pandora,  and  hardly  less 
naughty  Epimetheus,  remained  in  their  cottage.  Both  of 
them  had  been  grievously  stung,  and  were  in  a  good  deal 
of  pain,  which  seemed  the  more  intolerable  to  them, 
because  it  was  the  very  first  pain  that  had  ever  been  felt 
since  the  world  began.  Of  course,  they  were  entirely 
unaccustomed  to  it,  and  could  have  no  idea  what  it  meant. 
Besides  all  this,  they  were  in  exceedingly  bad  humour, 
both  with  themselves  and  with  one  another.  In  order  to 
indulge  it  to  the  utmost,  Epimetheus  sat  down  sullenly  in 
a  corner  with  his  back  towards  Pandora  ;  while  Pandora 
flung  herself  upon  the  floor  and  rested  her  head  on  the  fatal 
and  abominable  box.  She  was  crying  bitterly,  and  sobbing 
as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  gentle  little  tap  on  the  inside  of 
the  lid. 

*  What  can  that  be  ? '  cried  Pandora,  lifting  her  head. 

But  either  Epimetheus  had  not  heard  the  tap,  or  was 
too  much  out  of  humour  to  notice  it.  At  any  rate,  he 
made  no  answer. 

'  You  are  very  unkind/  said  Pandora,  sobbing  anew, 
'  not  to  speak  to  me  ! ' 

94 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

Again  the  tap  !  It  sounded  like  the  tiny  knuckles  of 
a  fairy's  hand,  knocking  lightly  and  playfully  on  the  inside 
of  the  box. 

'  Who  are  you  ?  '  asked  Pandora,  with  a  little  of  her 
former  curiosity.  *  Who  are  you,  inside  of  this  naughty 
box  ?  ' 

A  sweet  little  voice  spoke  from  within, — 

*  Only  lift  the  lid,  and  you  shall  see.* 

*  No,  no/  answered  Pandora,  again  beginning  to  sob, 
1  I  have  had  enough  of  lifting  the  lid  !    You  are  inside  of 
the  box,  naughty  creature,  and  there  you  shall  stay  !    There 
are  plenty  of  your  ugly  brothers  and  sisters  already  flying 
about  the  world.    You  need  never  think  that  I  shall  be 
so  foolish  as  to  let  you  out ! ' 

She  looked  towards  Epimetheus,  as  she  spoke,  perhaps 
expecting  that  he  would  commend  her  for  her  wisdom. 
But  the  sullen  boy  only  muttered  that  she  was  wise  a  little 
too  late. 

*  Ah,'  said  the  sweet  little  voice  again,  *  you  had  much 
better  let  me  out.    I  am  not  like  those  naughty  creatures 
that  have  stings  in  their  tails.    They  are  no  brothers  and 
sisters  of  mine,  as  you  would  see  at  once,  if  you  were  only 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  me.    Come,  come,  my  pretty  Pandora  ! 
I  am  sure  you  will  let  me  out !  ' 

And,  indeed,  there  was  a  kind  of  cheerful  witchery 
in  the  tone,  that  made  it  almost  impossible  to  refuse 
anything  which  this  little  voice  asked.  Pandora's  heart 
had  insensibly  grown  lighter,  at  every  word  that  came 
from  within  the  box.  Epimetheus,  too,  though  still  in 
the  corner,  had  turned  half  round,  and  seemed  to  be  in 
rather  better  spirits  than  before. 

95 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

'  My  dear  Epimetheus,'  cried  Pandora,  *  have  you  heard 
this  little  voice  ?  ' 

'  Yes,  to  be  sure  I  have,'  answered  he,  but  in  no  very 
good-humour  as  yet.  '  And  what  of  it  ?  ' 

*  Shall  I  lift  the  lid  again  ?  '  asked  Pandora. 

*  Just  as  you  please/  said  Epimetheus.    '  You  have 
done  so  much  mischief  already,  that  perhaps  you  may  as 
well  do  a  little  more.    One  other  Trouble,  in  such  a  swarm 
as  you  have  set  adrift  about  the  world,  can  make  no  very 
great  difference.' 

*  You  might  speak  a  little  more  kindly  ! '    murmured 
Pandora,  wiping  her  eyes. 

*  Ah,  naughty  boy  !  '   cried  the  little  voice  within  the 
box,  in  an  arch  and  laughing  tone.    *  He  knows  he  is 
longing  to  see  me.    Come,  my  dear  Pandora,  lift  up  the 
lid.    I  am  in  a  great  hurry  to  comfort  you.    Only  let  me 
have  some  fresh  air,  and  you  shall  soon  see  that  matters 
are  not  quite  so  dismal  as  you  think  them  ! ' 

*  Epimetheus,'  exclaimed  Pandora,  *  come  what  may, 
I  am  resolved  to  open  the  box  ! ' 

'  And,  as  the  lid  seems  very  heavy,'  cried  Epimetheus, 
running  across  the  room,  *  I  will  help  you  ! ' 

So,  with  one  consent,  the  two  children  again  lifted  the 
lid.  Out  flew  a  sunny  and  smiling  little  personage,  and 
hovered  about  the  room,  throwing  a  light  wherever  she 
went.  Have  you  never  made  the  sunshine  dance  into 
dark  corners,  by  reflecting  it  from  a  bit  of  looking-glass  ? 
Well,  so  looked  the  winged  cheerfulness  of  this  fairy-like 
stranger,  amid  the  gloom  of  the  cottage.  She  flew  to 
Epimetheus,  and  laid  the  least  touch  of  her  finger  on  the 
inflamed  spot  where  the  Trouble  had  stung  him,  and 

96 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN 

immediately  the  anguish  of  it  was  gone.  Then  she  kissed 
Pandora  on  the  forehead,  and  her  hurt  was  cured  like- 
wise. 

After  performing  these  good  offices,  the  bright  stranger 
fluttered  sportively  over  the  children's  heads,  and  looked 
so  sweetly  at  them,  that  they  both  began  to  think  it  not 
so  very  much  amiss  to  have  opened  the  box,  since,  otherwise, 
their  cheery  guest  must  have  been  kept  a  prisoner  among 
those  naughty  imps  with  stings  in  their  tails. 

1  Pray,  who  are  you,  beautiful  creature  ? '  inquired 
Pandora. 

'  I  am  to  be  called  Hope  ! '  answered  the  sunshiny 
figure.  *  And  because  I  am  such  a  cheery  little  body,  I 
was  packed  into  the  box,  to  make  amends  to  the  human  race 
for  that  swarm  of  ugly  Troubles  which  was  destined  to 
be  let  loose  among  them.  Never  fear  !  we  shall  do  pretty 
well  in  spite  of  them  all.' 

1  Your  wings  are  coloured  like  the  rainbow  ! '  exclaimed 
Pandora.  '  How  very  beautiful !  ' 

1  Yes,  they  are  like  the  rainbow/  said  Hope,  *  because, 
glad  as  my  nature  is,  I  am  partly  made  of  tears  as  well  as 
smiles/ 

*  And  will  you  stay  with  us,1  asked  Epimetheus,  '  for 
ever  and  ever  ?  ' 

*  As  long  as  you  need  me/  said  Hope,  with  her  pleasant 
smile, — '  and  that  will  be  as  long  as  you  live  in  the  world, — 
I  promise  never  to  desert  you.    There  may  come  times  and 
seasons,  now  and  then,  when  you  will  think  that  I  have 
utterly  vanished.    But  again,  and  again,  and  again,  when 
perhaps  you  least  dream  of  it,  you  shall  see  the  glimmer  of 
my  wings  on  the  ceiling  of  your  cottage.    Yes,  my  dear 

N 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

children,  and  I  know  something  very  good  and  beautiful 
that  is  to  be  given  you  hereafter  ! ' 

'  Oh  tell  us,*  they  exclaimed, — c  tell  us  what  it  is  ! ' 

c  Do  not  ask  me/  replied  Hope,  putting  her  finger  on 
her  rosy  mouth.  *  But  do  not  despair,  even  if  it  should 
never  happen  while  you  live  on  this  earth.  Trust  in  my 
promise,  for  it  is  true.' 

*  We  do  trust  you  !  '  cried  Epimetheus  and  Pandora, 
both  in  one  breath. 

And  so  they  did  ;  and  not  only  they,  but  so  has  every- 
body trusted  Hope,  that  has  since  been  alive.  And  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  cannot  help  being  glad — (though,  to 
be  sure,  it  was  an  uncommonly  naughty  thing  for  her  to 
do) — but  I  cannot  help  being  glad  that  our  foolish  Pandora 
peeped  into  the  box.  No  doubt — no  doubt — the  Troubles 
are  still  flying  about  the  world,  and  have  increased  in 
multitude,  rather  than  lessened,  and  are  a  very  ugly  set 
of  imps,  and  carry  most  venomous  stings  in  their  tails. 
I  have  felt  them  already,  and  expect  to  feel  them  more,  as 
I  grow  older.  But  then  that  lovely  and  lightsome  little 
figure  of  Hope  !  What  in  the  world  could  we  do  without 
her  ?  Hope  spiritualises  the  earth  ;  Hope  makes  it  always 
new  ;  and,  even  in  the  earth's  best  and  brightest  aspect, 
Hope  shows  it  to  be  only  the  shadow  of  an  infinite  bliss 
hereafter  1 


98 


TANGLEWOOD   PLAYROOM 

AFTER  THE  STORY 


1  TT\RIMROSE,'  asked  Eustace,  pinching  her  ear, 
1--^  '  how  do  you  like  my  little  Pandora  ?  Don't 
M  you  think  her  the  exact  picture  of  yourself  ? 

But  you  would  not  have  hesitated  half  so  long  about 

opening  the  box/ 

'  Then   I   should   have  been  well  punished   for   my 

naughtiness/  retorted  Primrose  smartly  ;    *  for  the  first 

thing  to  pop  out,  after  the  lid  was  lifted,  would  have  been 

Mr.  Eustace  Bright,  in  the  shape  of  a  Trouble/ 

4  Cousin  Eustace/  said  Sweet  Fern,  *  did  the  box  hold 

all  the  trouble  that  has  ever  come  into  the  world  ?  ' 

*  Every  mite  of  it !  '    answered  Eustace.    *  This  very 
snowstorm,  which  has   spoiled  my  skating,  was  packed 
up  there/ 

*  And  how  big  was  the  box  ? '  asked  Sweet  Fern. 

*  Why,  perhaps  three  feet  long/  said  Eustace,  '  two 
feet  wide,  and  two  feet  and  a  half  high/ 

*  Ah/  said  the  child,  *  you  are  making  fun  of  me, 
Cousin  Eustace  !    I  know  there  is  not  trouble  enough  in 

99 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

the  world  to  fill  such  a  great  box  as  that.  As  for  the 
snowstorm,  it  is  no  trouble  at  all,  but  a  pleasure  ;  so  it 
could  not  have  been  in  the  box.' 

'  Hear  the  child  ! '  cried  Primrose,  with  an  air  of 
superiority.  *  How  little  he  knows  about  the  troubles  of 
this  world.  Poor  fellow  !  He  will  be  wiser  when  he  has 
seen  as  much  of  life  as  I  have.' 

So  saying,  she  began  to  skip  the  rope. 

Meantime,  the  day  was  drawing  towards  its  close. 
Out  of  doors  the  scene  certainly  looked  dreary.  There 
was  a  gray  drift,  far  and  wide,  through  the  gathering 
twilight ;  the  earth  was  as  pathless  as  the  air  ;  and  the 
bank  of  snow  over  the  steps  of  the  porch  proved  that 
nobody  had  entered  or  gone  out  for  a  good  many  hours 
past.  Had  there  been  only  one  child  at  the  window  of 
Tanglewood,  gazing  at  this  wintry  prospect,  it  would 
perhaps  have  made  him  sad.  But  half  a  dozen  children 
together,  though  they  cannot  quite  turn  the  world  into  a 
paradise,  may  defy  old  Winter  and  all  his  storms  to  put 
them  out  of  spirits.  Eustace  Bright,  moreover,  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment,  invented  several  new  kinds  of  play, 
which  kept  them  all  in  a  roar  of  merriment  till  bedtime, 
and  served  for  the  next  stormy  day  besides. 


100 


THE   THREE   GOLDEN   APPLES 


TANGLEWOOD   FIRESIDE 

INTRODUCTORY  TO 
'  THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES  ' 


I 


THE  snowstorm  lasted  another  day;  but  what 
became  of  it  afterwards,  I  cannot  possibly 
imagine.  At  any  rate,  it  entirely  cleared  away 
during  the  night ;  and  when  the  sun  arose  the  next  morning 
it  shone  brightly  down  on  as  bleak  a  tract  of  hill-country, 
here  in  Berkshire,  as  could  be  seen  anywhere  in  the  world. 
The  frost-work  had  so  covered  the  window-panes  that  it 
was  hardly  possible  to  get  a  glimpse  at  the  scenery  outside. 
But,  while  waiting  for  breakfast,  the  small  populace  of 
Tanglewood  had  scratched  peep-holes  with  their  finger- 
nails, and  saw  with  vast  delight  that — unless  it  were  one 
or  two  bare  patches  on  a  precipitous  hill -side,  or  the  gray 
effect  of  the  snow,  intermingled  with  the  black  pine  forest 

103 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

— all  nature  was  as  white  as  a  sheet.  How  exceedingly 
pleasant !  And,  to  make  all  the  better,  it  was  cold  enough 
to  nip  one's  nose  short  off  !  If  people  have  but  life  enough 
in  them  to  bear  it,  there  is  nothing  that  so  raises  the  spirits, 
and  makes  the  blood  ripple  and  dance  so  nimbly,  like  a 
brook  down  the  slope  of  a  hill,  as  a  bright,  hard  frost. 

No  sooner  was  breakfast  over,  than  the  whole  party, 
well  muffled  in  furs  and  woollens,  floundered  forth  into 
the  midst  of  the  snow.  Well,  what  a  day  of  frosty  sport 
was  this  !  They  slid  down  hill  into  the  valley,  a  hundred 
times,  nobody  knows  how  far  ;  and,  to  make  it  all  the 
merrier,  upsetting  their  sledges,  and  tumbling  head  over 
heels,  quite  as  often  as  they  came  safely  to  the  bottom. 
And,  once,  Eustace  Bright  took  Periwinkle,  Sweet  Fern,  and 
Squash-Blossom,  on  the  sledge  with  him,  by  way  of  in- 
suring a  safe  passage  ;  and  down  they  went,  full  speed. 
But,  behold,  half-way  down,  the  sledge  hit  against  a  hidden 
stump,  and  flung  all  four  of  its  passengers  into  a  heap  ; 
and,  on  gathering  themselves  up,  there  was  no  little  Squash- 
Blossom  to  be  found  !  Why,  what  could  have  become  of 
the  child  ?  And  while  they  were  wondering  and  staring 
about,  up  started  Squash-Blossom  out  of  a  snow-bank, 
with  the  reddest  face  you  ever  saw,  and  looking  as  if  a 
large  scarlet  flower  had  suddenly  sprouted  up  in  mid- 
winter. Then  there  was  a  great  laugh. 

When  they  had  grown  tired  of  sliding  down  hill,  Eustace 
set  the  children  to  digging  a  cave  in  the  biggest  snow-drift 
that  they  could  find.  Unluckily,  just  as  it  was  completed, 
and  the  party  had  squeezed  themselves  into  the  hollow, 
down  came  the  roof  upon  their  heads,  and  buried  every 
soul  of  them  alive  !  The  next  moment,  up  popped  all 

104 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

their  little  heads  out  of  the  ruins,  and  the  tall  student's 
head  in  the  midst  of  them,  looking  hoary  and  venerable 
with  the  snow-dust  that  had  got  amongst  his  brown  curls. 
And  then,  to  punish  Cousin  Eustace  for  advising  them  to 
dig  such  a  tumble-down  cavern,  the  children  attacked  him 
in  a  body,  and  so  bepelted  him  with  snowballs  that  he  was 
fain  to  take  to  his  heels. 

So  he  ran  away,  and  went  into  the  woods,  and  thence 
to  the  margin  of  Shadow  Brook,  where  he  could  hear  the 
streamlet  grumbling  along,  under  great  overhanging  banks 
of  snow  and  ice,  which  would  scarcely  let  it  see  the  light  of 
day.  There  were  adamantine  icicles  glittering  around  all 
its  little  cascades.  Thence  he  strolled  to  the  shore  of  the 
lake,  and  beheld  a  white  untrodden  plain  before  him, 
stretching  from  his  own  feet  to  the  foot  of  Monument 
Mountain.  And,  it  being  now  almost  sunset,  Eustace 
thought  that  he  had  never  beheld  anything  so  fresh  and 
beautiful  as  the  scene.  He  was  glad  that  the  children  were 
not  with  him  ;  for  their  lively  spirits  and  tumble-about 
activity  would  quite  have  chased  away  his  higher  and  graver 
mood,  so  that  he  would  merely  have  been  merry  (as  he  had 
already  been,  the  whole  day  long),  and  would  not  have 
known  the  loveliness  of  the  winter  sunset  among  the  hills. 

When  the  sun  was  fairly  down,  our  friend  Eustace  went 
home  to  eat  his  supper.  After  the  meal  was  over,  he  betook 
himself  to  the  study,  with  a  purpose,  I  rather  imagine,  to 
write  an  ode,  or  two  or  three  sonnets,  or  verses  of  some 
kind  or  other,  in  praise  of  the  purple  and  golden  clouds 
which  he  had  seen  around  the  setting  sun.  But  before  he 
had  hammered  out  the  very  first  rhyme,  the  door  opened, 
and  Primrose  and  Periwinkle  made  their  appearance. 

o  105 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

'  Go  away,  children  !  I  can't  be  troubled  with  you 
now  ! '  cried  the  student,  looking  over  his  shoulder,  with 
the  pen  between  his  fingers.  *  What  in  the  world  do  you 
want  here  ?  I  thought  you  were  all  in  bed  ! ' 

'  Hear  him,  Periwinkle,  trying  to  talk  like  a  grown 
man  ! '  said  Primrose.  *  And  he  seems  to  forget  that  I 
am  now  thirteen  years  old,  and  may  sit  up  almost  as  late 
as  I  please.  But,  Cousin  Eustace,  you  must  put  off  your 
airs,  and  come  with  us  to  the  drawing-room.  The  children 
have  talked  so  much  about  your  stories,  that  my  father 
wishes  to  hear  one  of  them,  in  order  to  judge  whether 
they  are  likely  to  do  any  mischief.' 

'  Poh,  poh,  Primrose  !  '  exclaimed  the  student,  rather 
vexed.  *  I  don't  believe  I  can  tell  one  of  my  stories  in  the 
presence  of  grown  people.  Besides,  your  father  is  a 
classical  scholar  ;  not  that  I  am  much  afraid  of  his  scholar- 
ship, neither,  for  I  doubt  not  it  is  as  rusty  as  an  old  case- 
knife  by  this  time.  But  then  he  will  be  sure  to  quarrel 
with  ":he  admirable  nonsense  that  I  put  into  these  stories 
out  of  my  own  head,  and  which  makes  the  great  charm  of 
the  matter  for  children,  like  yourself.  No  man  of  fifty, 
who  has  read  the  classical  myths  in  his  youth,  can  possibly 
understand  my  merit  as  a  reinventor  and  improver  of  them.' 

*  All  this  may  be  very  true,'  said  Primrose,  *  but  come 
you  must !  My  father  will  not  open  his  book,  nor  will 
mamma  open  the  piano,  till  you  have  given  us  some  of 
your  nonsense,  as  you  very  correctly  call  it.  So  be  a 
good  boy,  and  come  along.' 

Whatever  he  might  pretend,  the  student  was  rather 
glad  than  otherwise,  on  second  thoughts,  to  catch  at  the 
opportunity  of  proving  to  Mr.  Pringle  what  an  excellent 

106 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

faculty  he  had  in  modernising  the  myths  of  ancient  times. 
Until  twenty  years  of  age,  a  young  man  may,  indeed,  be 
rather  bashful  about  showing  his  poetry  and  his  prose  ; 
but,  for  all  that,  he  is  pretty  apt  to  think  that  these  very 
productions  would  place  him  at  the  tiptop  of  literature,  if 
once  they  could  be  known.  Accordingly,  without  much 
more  resistance,  Eustace  suffered  Primrose  and  Periwinkle 
to  drag  him  into  the  drawing-room. 

It  was  a  large,  handsome  apartment,  with  a  semi- 
circular window  at  one  end,  in  the  recess  of  which  stood 
a  marble  copy  of  Greenough's  Angel  and  Child.  On  one 
side  of  the  fireplace  there  were  many  shelves  of  books, 
gravely  but  richly  bound.  The  white  light  of  the  astral- 
lamp,  and  the  red  glow  of  the  bright  coal-fire,  made  the 
room  brilliant  and  cheerful ;  and  before  the  fire,  in  a  deep 
arm-chair,  sat  Mr.  Pringle,  looking  just  fit  to  be  seated  in 
such  a  chair,  and  in  such  a  room.  He  was  a  tall  and  quite 
a  handsome  gentleman,  with  a  bald  brow  ;  and  was  always 
so  nicely  dressed,  that  even  Eustace  Bright  never  liked  to 
enter  his  presence  without  at  least  pausing  at  the  threshold 
to  settle  his  shirt-collar.  But  now,  as  Primrose  had  hold 
of  one  of  his  hands,  and  Periwinkle  of  the  other,  he  was 
forced  to  make  his  appearance  with  a  rough-and-tumble 
sort  of  look,  as  if  he  had  been  rolling  all  day  in  a  snow-bank. 
And  so  he  had. 

Mr.  Pringle  turned  towards  the  student  benignly 
enough,  but  in  a  way  that  made  him  feel  how  uncombed 
and  unb rushed,  likewise,  were  his  mind  and  thoughts. 

*  Eustace/  said  Mr.  Pringle,  with  a  smile,  *  I  find  that 
you  are  producing  a  great  sensation  among  the  little  public 
of  Tanglewood,  by  the  exercise  of  your  gifts  of  narrative. 

107 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

Primrose  here,  as  the  little  folks  choose  to  call  her,  and  the 
rest  of  the  children,  have  been  so  loud  in  praise  of  your 
stories,  that  Mrs.  Pringle  and  myself  are  really  curious  to 
hear  a  specimen.  It  would  be  so  much  the  more  gratifying 
to  myself,  as  the  stories  appear  to  be  an  attempt  to  render 
the  fables  of  classical  antiquity  into  the  idiom  of  modern 
fancy  and  feeling.  At  least,  so  I  judge  from  a  few  of  the 
incidents  which  have  come  to  me  at  second  hand.' 

1  You  are  not  exactly  the  auditor  that  I  should  have 
chosen,  sir,'  observed  the  student,  *  for  fantasies  of  this 
nature.' 

'  Possibly  not,'  replied  Mr.  Pringle.  *  I  suspect,  how- 
ever, that  a  young  author's  most  useful  critic  is  precisely 
the  one  whom  he  would  be  least  apt  to  choose.  Pray 
oblige  me,  therefore.' 

*  Sympathy,  methinks,  should  have  some  little  share 
in  the  critic's  qualifications,'  murmured  Eustace  Bright. 
*  However,  sir,  if  you  will  find  patience,  I  will  find  stories. 
But  be  kind  enough  to  remember  that  1  am  addressing 
myself  to  the  imagination  and  sympathies  of  the  children, 
not  to  your  own.' 

Accordingly,  the  student  snatched  hold  of  the  first 
theme  which  presented  itself.  It  was  suggested  by  a 
plate  of  apples  that  he  happened  to  spy  on  the  mantelpiece. 


108 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 


DID  you  ever  hear  of  the  golden  apples,  that  grew 
in  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides !    Ah,  those 
were  such  apples  as  would  bring  a  great  price, 
by  the  bushel,  if  any  of  them  could  be  found  growing  in 
the  orchards  of  nowadays  !    But  there  is  not,  I  suppose,  a 
graft  of  that  wonderful  fruit  on  a  single  tree  in  the  wide 
world.    Not  so  much  as  a  seed  of  those  apples  exists  any 
longer. 

And,  even  in  the  old,  old,  half-forgotten  times,  before 
the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  was  overrun  with  weeds,  a 
great  many  people  doubted  whether  there  could  be  real 
trees  that  bore  apples  of  solid  gold  upon  their  branches. 
All  had  heard  of  them,  but  nobody  remembered  to  have 
seen  any.  Children,  nevertheless,  used  to  listen,  open- 
mouthed,  to  stories  of  the  golden  apple-tree,  and  resolved 
to  discover  it,  when  they  should  be  big  enough.  Adven- 

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A  WONDER-BOOK 

turous  young  men,  who  desired  to  do  a  braver  thing  than 
any  of  their  fellows,  set  out  in  quest  of  this  fruit.  Many 
of  them  returned  no  more  ;  none  of  them  brought  back 
the  apples.  No  wonder  that  they  found  it  impossible  to 
gather  them  !  It  is  said  that  there  was  a  dragon  beneath 
the  tree,  with  a  hundred  terrible  heads,  fifty  of  which  were 
always  on  the  watch,  while  the  other  fifty  slept. 

In  my  opinion  it  was  hardly  worth  running  so  much 
risk  for  the  sake  of  a  solid  golden  apple.  Had  the  apples 
been  sweet,  mellow,  and  juicy,  indeed  that  would  be 
another  matter.  There  might  then  have  been  some  sense 
in  trying  to  get  at  them,  in  spite  of  the  hundred-headed 
dragon. 

But,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  it  was  quite  a  common 
thing  with  young  persons,  when  tired  of  too  much  peace 
and  rest,  to  go  in  search  of  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides. 
And  once  the  adventure  was  undertaken  by  a  hero  who  had 
enjoyed  very  little  peace  or  rest  since  he  came  into  the 
world.  At  the  time  of  which  I  am  going  to  speak,  he  was 
wandering  through  the  pleasant  land  of  Italy,  with  a  mighty 
club  in  his  hand,  and  a  bow  and  quiver  slung  across  his 
shoulders.  He  was  wrapt  in  the  skin  of  the  biggest  and 
fiercest  lion  that  ever  had  been  seen,  and  which  he  himself 
had  killed  ;  and  though,  on  the  whole,  he  was  kind,  and 
generous,  and  noble,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  the  lion's 
fierceness  in  his  heart.  As  he  went  on  his  way,  he  con- 
tinually inquired  whether  that  were  the  right  road  to  the 
famous  garden.  But  none  of  the  country  people  knew 
anything  about  the  matter,  and  many  looked  as  if  they 
would  have  laughed  at  the  question,  if  the  stranger  had  not 

carried  so  very  big  a  club. 

no 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

So  he  journeyed  on  and  on,  still  making  the  same 
inquiry,  until,  at  last,  he  came  to  the  brink  of  a  river  where 
some  beautiful  young  women  sat  twining  wreaths  of 
flowers. 

1  Can  you  tell  me,  pretty  maidens/  asked  the  stranger, 
1  whether  this  is  the  right  way  to  the  garden  of  the 
Hesperides  ?  ' 

The  young  women  had  been  having  a  fine  time  together, 
weaving  the  flowers  into  wreaths,  and  crowning  one 
another's  heads.  And  there  seemed  to  be  a  kind  of  magic 
in  the  touch  of  their  fingers,  that  made  the  flowers  more 
fresh  and  dewy,  and  of  brighter  hues,  and  sweeter  fragrance, 
while  they  played  with  them,  than  even  when  they  had  been 
growing  on  their  native  stems.  But,  on  hearing  the 
stranger's  question,  they  dropped  all  their  flowers  on  the 
grass,  and  gazed  at  him  with  astonishment. 

1  The  garden  of  the  Hesperides  !  '  cried  one.  *  We 
thought  mortals  had  been  weary  of  seeking  it,  after  so  many 
disappointments.  And  pray,  adventurous  traveller,  what 
do  you  want  there  ?  ' 

*  A  certain  king,  who  is  my  cousin/  replied  he,  '  has 
ordered  me  to  get  him  three  of  the  golden  apples/ 

*  Most  of  the  young  men  who  go  in  quest  of  these 
apples/  observed  another  of  the  damsels,  *  desire  to  obtain 
them  for  themselves,  or  to  present  them  to  some  fair 
maiden  whom  they  love.    Do  you,  then,  love  this  king, 
your  cousin,  so  very  much  ?  ' 

*  Perhaps    not/    replied    the    stranger,    sighing.    *  He 
has  often  been  severe  and  cruel  to  me.    But  it  is  my  destiny 
to  obey  him.' 

'  And  do  you  know/  asked  the  damsel  who  had  first 

in 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

spoken,  '  that  a  terrible  dragon,  with  a  hundred  heads, 
keeps  watch  under  the  golden  apple-tree  ?  ' 

'  I  know  it  well/  answered  the  stranger  calmly.  *  But, 
from  my  cradle  upwards,  it  has  been  my  business,  and 
almost  my  pastime,  to  deal  with  serpents  and  dragons.' 

The  young  women  looked  to  his  massive  club,  and  at 
the  shaggy  lion's  skin  which  he  wore,  and  likewise  at  his 
heroic  limbs  and  figure  ;  and  they  whispered  to  each 
other  that  the  stranger  appeared  to  be  one  who  might 
reasonably  expect  to  perform  deeds  far  beyond  the  might 
of  other  men.  But,  then,  the  dragon  with  a  hundred  heads  ! 
What  mortal,  even  if  he  possessed  a  hundred  lives,  could 
hope  to  escape  the  fangs  of  such  a  monster  ?  So  kind- 
hearted  were  the  maidens,  that  they  could  not  bear  to  see 
this  brave  and  handsome  traveller  attempt  what  was  so 
very  dangerous,  and  devote  himself,  most  probably,  to 
become  a  meal  for  the  dragon's  hundred  ravenous  mouths. 

'  Go  back,'  cried  they  all, — c  go  back  to  your  own 
home  !  Your  mother,  beholding  you  safe  and  sound,  will 
shed  tears  of  joy  ;  and  what  can  she  do  more,  should  you 
win  ever  so  great  a  victory  ?  No  matter  for  the  golden 
apples  !  No  matter  for  the  king,  your  cruel  cousin  !  We  do 
not  wish  the  dragon  with  the  hundred  heads  to  eat  you  up  ! ' 

The  stranger  seemed  to  grow  impatient  at  these 
remonstrances.  He  carelessly  lifted  his  mighty  club, 
and  let  it  fall  upon  a  rock  that  lay  half  buried  in  the  earth, 
near  by.  With  the  force  of  that  idle  blow,  the  great  rock 
was  shattered  all  to  pieces.  It  cost  the  stranger  no  more 
effort  to  achieve  this  feat  of  a  giant's  strength  than  for  one 
of  the  young  maidens  to  touch  her  sister's  rosy  cheek  with 
a  flower. 

112 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

'  Do  you  not  believe,'  said  he,  looking  at  the  damsels 
with  a  smile,  *  that  such  a  blow  would  have  crashed  one 
of  the  dragon's  hundred  heads  ? ' 

Then  he  sat  down  on  the  grass,  and  told  them  the 
story  of  his  life,  or  as  much  of  it  as  he  could  remember, 
from  the  day  when  he  was  first  cradled  in  a  warrior's 
brazen  shield.  While  he  lay  there,  two  immense  serpents 
came  gliding  over  the  floor,  and  opened  their  hideous 
jaws  to  devour  him  ;  and  he,  a  baby  of  a  few  months  old, 
had  gripped  one  of  the  fierce  snakes  in  each  of  his  little  fists, 
and  strangled  them  to  death.  When  he  was  but  a  stripling, 
he  had  killed  a  huge  lion,  almost  as  big  as  the  one  whose 
vast  and  shaggy  hide  he  now  wore  upon  his  shoulders. 
The  next  thing  that  he  had  done  was  to  fight  a  battle  with 
an  ugly  sort  of  monster,  called  a  hydra,  which  had  no  less 
than  nine  heads,  and  exceedingly  sharp  teeth  in  every  one. 

*  But  the  dragon  of  the  Hesperides,  you  know,'  ob- 
served one  of  the  damsels,  *  has  a  hundred  heads  ! ' 

'  Nevertheless,'  replied  the  stranger,  *  I  would  rather 
fight  two  such  dragons  than  a  single  hydra.  For,  as  fast 
as  I  cut  off  a  head,  two  others  grew  in  its  place  ;  and, 
besides,  there  was  one  of  the  heads  that  could  not  possibly 
be  killed,  but  kept  biting  as  fiercely  as  ever,  long  after  it 
was  cut  off.  So  I  was  forced  to  bury  it  under  a  stone, 
where  it  is  doubtless  alive  to  this  very  day.  But  the  hydra's 
body  and  its  eight  other  heads,  will  never  do  any  further 
mischief.' 

The  damsels,  judging  that  the  story  was  likely  to  last 
a  good  while,  had  been  preparing  a  repast  of  bread  and 
grapes,  that  the  stranger  might  refresh  himself  in  the 
intervals  of  his  talk.  They  took  pleasure  in  helping  him 

p  113 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

to  this  simple  food  ;  and,  now  and  then,  one  of  them 
would  put  a  sweet  grape  between  her  rosy  lips,  lest  it 
should  make  him  bashful  to  eat  alone. 

The  traveller  proceeded  to  tell  how  he  had  chased  a  very 
swift  stag,  for  a  twelvemonth  together,  without  ever 
stopping  to  take  breath,  and  had  at  last  caught  it  by  the 
antlers,  and  carried  it  home  alive.  And  he  had  fought 
with  a  very  odd  race  of  people,  half  horses  and  half  men, 
and  had  put  them  all  to  death,  from  a  sense  of  duty,  in 
order  that  their  ugly  figures  might  never  be  seen  any  more. 
Besides  all  this,  he  took  to  himself  great  credit  for  having 
cleaned  out  a  stable. 

*  Do  you  call  that  a  wonderful  exploit  ?  '  asked  one  of 
the  young  maidens,  with  a  smile.    *  Any  clown  in  the 
country  has  done  as  much  !  ' 

'  Had  it  been  an  ordinary  stable/  replied  the  stranger, 
*  I  should  not  have  mentioned  it.  But  this  was  so  gigantic 
a  task  that  it  would  have  taken  me  all  my  life  to  perform  it, 
if  I  had  not  luckily  thought  of  turning  the  channel  of  a 
river  through  the  stable-door.  That  did  the  business  in 
a  very  short  time  !  ' 

Seeing  how  earnestly  his  fair  auditors  listened,  he  next 
told  them  how  he  had  shot  some  monstrous  birds,  and 
had  caught  a  wild  bull  alive  and  let  him  go  again,  and  had 
tamed  a  number  of  very  wild  horses,  and  had  conquered 
Hippolyta,  the  warlike  queen  of  the  Amazons.  He 
mentioned,  likewise,  that  he  had  taken  off  Hippolyta's 
enchanted  girdle,  and  had  given  it  to  the  daughter  of  his 
cousin,  the  king. 

*  Was  it  the  girdle  of  Venus/  inquired  the  prettiest  of 
the  damsels, '  which  makes  women  beautiful  ?  * 

114 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

'  No,'  answered  the  stranger.  *  It  had  formerly  been 
the  sword-belt  of  Mars  ;  and  it  can  only  make  the  wearer 
valiant  and  courageous/ 

*  An  old  sword-belt ! '    cried  the  damsel,  tossing  her 
head.    '  Then  I  should  not  care  about  having  it ! ' 

1  You  are  right/  said  the  stranger. 

Going  on  with  his  wonderful  narrative,  he  informed 
the  maidens  that  as  strange  an  adventure  as  ever  happened 
was,  when  he  fought  with  Geryon,  the  six-legged  man. 
This  was  a  very  odd  and  frightful  sort  of  figure,  as  you 
may  well  believe.  Any  person,  looking  at  his  tracks  in 
the  sand  or  snow,  would  suppose  that  three  sociable 
companions  had  been  walking  along  together.  On  hearing 
his  footsteps  at  a  little  distance,  it  was  no  more  than 
reasonable  to  judge  that  several  people  must  be  coming. 
But  it  was  only  the  strange  man  Geryon  clattering  onward, 
with  his  six  legs  ! 

Six  legs,  and  one  gigantic  body  !  Certainly,  he  must 
have  been  a  very  queer  monster  to  look  at ;  and,  my  stars, 
what  a  waste  of  shoe-leather  ! 

When  the  stranger  had  finished  the  story  of  his  adven- 
tures, he  looked  around  at  the  attentive  faces  of  the  maidens. 

*  Perhaps  you  may  have  heard  of  me  before/  said  he 
modestly.    *  My  name  is  Hercules  !  ' 

*  We  had  already  guessed  it/  replied  the  maidens  ; 
'  for  your  wonderful  deeds  are  known  all  over  the  world. 
We  do  not  think  it  strange,  any  longer,  that  you  should  set 
out  in  quest  of  the  golden  apples  of  the  Hesperides.    Come, 
sisters,  let  us  crown  the  hero  with  flowers  !  ' 

Then  they  flung  beautiful  wreaths  over  his  stately  head 
and  mighty  shoulders,  so  that  the  lion's  skin  was  almost 

"5 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

entirely  covered  with  roses.  They  took  possession  of  his 
ponderous  club,  and  so  entwined  it  about  with  the  brightest, 
softest,  and  most  fragrant  blossoms,  that  not  a  finger's 
breadth  of  its  oaken  substance  could  be  seen.  It  looked 
all  like  a  huge  bunch  of  flowers.  Lastly,  they  joined 
hands,  and  danced  around  him,  chanting  words  which 
became  poetry  of  their  own  accord,  and  grew  into  a  choral 
song,  in  honour  of  the  illustrious  Hercules. 

And  Hercules  was  rejoiced,  as  any  other  hero  would 
have  been,  to  know  that  these  fair  young  girls  had  heard 
of  the  valiant  deeds  which  it  had  cost  him  so  much  toil 
and  danger  to  achieve.  But,  still,  he  was  not  satisfied. 
He  could  not  think  that  what  he  had  already  done  was 
worthy  of  so  much  honour,  while  there  remained  any  bold 
or  difficult  adventure  to  be  undertaken. 

*  Dear  maidens/  said  he,  when  they  paused  to  take 
breath,  *  now  that  you  know  my  name,  will  you  not  tell 
me  how  I  am  to  reach  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  ?  ' 

'  Ah  !  must  you  go  so  soon  ?  '  they  exclaimed.  *  You 
— that  have  performed  so  many  wonders,  and  spent  such 
a  toilsome  life — cannot  you  content  yourself  to  repose  a 
little  while  on  the  margin  of  this  peaceful  river  ? ' 

Hercules  shook  his  head. 

c  I  must  depart  now,'  said  he. 

'  We  will  then  give  you  the  best  directions  we  can,' 
replied  the  damsels.  '  You  must  go  to  the  sea-shore,  and 
find  out  the  Old  One,  and  compel  him  to  inform  you  where 
the  golden  apples  are  to  be  found.' 

1  The  Old  One  ! '  repeated  Hercules,  laughing  at 
this  odd  name.  *  And,  pray,  who  may  the  Old  One  be  ? ' 

*  Why,  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea,  to  be  sure  !  '  answered 

116 


- 


They  have  sea-green  hair 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

one  of  the  damsels.  c  He  has  fifty  daughters,  whom  some 
people  call  very  beautiful ;  but  we  do  not  think  it  proper 
to  be  acquainted  with  them,  because  they  have  sea-green 
hair,  and  taper  away  like  fishes.  You  must  talk  with  this 
Old  Man  of  the  Sea.  He  is  a  sea-faring  person,  and  knows 
all  about  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  ;  for  it  is  situated 
in  an  island  which  he  is  often  in  the  habit  of  visiting.' 

Hercules  then  asked  whereabouts  the  Old  One  was 
most  likely  to  be  met  with.  When  the  damsels  had 
informed  him,  he  thanked  them  for  all  their  kindness, — 
for  the  bread  and  grapes  with  which  they  had  fed  him, 
the  lovely  flowers  with  which  they  had  crowned  him,  and 
the  songs  and  dances  wherewith  they  had  done  him 
honour, — and  he  thanked  them,  most  of  all,  for  telling 
him  the  right  way, — and  immediately  set  forth  upon  his 
journey. 

But,  before  he  was  out  of  hearing,  one  of  the  maidens 
called  after  him. 

*  Keep  fast  hold  of  the  Old  One,  when  you  catch  him  ! ' 
cried  she,  smiling,  and  lifting  her  finger  to  make  the 
caution  more  impressive.  '  Do  not  be  astonished  at  any- 
thing that  may  happen.  Only  hold  him  fast,  and  he  will 
tell  you  what  you  wish  to  know.' 

Hercules  again  thanked  her,  and  pursued  his  way, 
while  the  maidens  resumed  their  pleasant  labour  of  making 
flower- wreaths.  They  talked  about  the  hero,  long  after 
he  was  gone. 

'  We  will  crown  him  with  the  loveliest  of  our  garlands,' 
said  they,  *  when  he  returns  hither  with  the  three  golden 
apples,  after  slaying  the  dragon  with  a  hundred  heads.' 

Meanwhile,  Hercules  travelled  constantly  onward,  over 

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A  WONDER-BOOK 

hill  and  dale,  and  through  the  solitary  woods.  Sometimes 
he  swung  his  club  aloft,  and  splintered  a  mighty  oak  with  a 
downright  blow.  His  mind  was  so  full  of  the  giants  and 
monsters  with  whom  it  was  the  business  of  his  life  to  fight, 
that  perhaps  he  mistook  the  great  tree  for  a  giant  or  a 
monster.  And  so  eager  was  Hercules  to  achieve  what  he 
had  undertaken,  that  he  almost  regretted  to  have  spent  so 
much  time  with  the  damsels,  wasting  idle  breath  upon  the 
story  of  his  adventures.  But  thus  it  always  is  with  persons 
who  are  destined  to  perform  great  things.  What  they 
have  already  done  seems  less  than  nothing.  What  they 
have  taken  in  hand  to  do  seems  worth  toil,  danger,  and  life 
itself. 

Persons  who  happened  to  be  passing  through  the  forest 
must  have  been  affrighted  to  see  him  smite  the  trees  with 
his  great  club.  With  but  a  single  blow,  the  trunk  was 
riven  as  by  the  stroke  of  lightning,  and  the  broad  boughs 
came  rustling  and  crashing  down. 

Hastening  forward,  without  ever  pausing  or  looking 
behind,  he  by  and  by  heard  the  sea  roaring  at  a  distance. 
At  this  sound,  he  increased  his  speed,  and  soon  came  to 
a  beach,  where  the  great  surf -waves  tumbled  themselves 
upon  the  hard  sand,  in  a  long  line  of  snowy  foam.  At  one 
end  of  the  beach,  however,  there  was  a  pleasant  spot, 
where  some  green  shrubbery  clambered  up  a  cliff,  making 
its  rocky  face  look  soft  and  beautiful.  A  carpet  of  verdant 
grass,  largely  intermixed  with  sweet-smelling  clover, 
covered  the  narrow  space  between  the  bottom  of  the  cliff 
and  the  sea.  And  what  should  Hercules  espy  there,  but 
an  old  man,  fast  asleep  ! 

But  was  it  really  and  truly  an  old  man  ?  Certainly, 

118 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

at  first  sight,  it  looked  very  like  one  ;  but,  on  closer  in- 
spection, it  rather  seemed  to  be  some  kind  of  a  creature 
that  lived  in  the  sea.  For,  on  his  legs  and  arms  there  were 
scales,  such  as  fishes  have  ;  he  was  web-footed  and  web- 
fingered,  after  the  fashion  of  a  duck  ;  and  his  long  beard, 
being  of  a  greenish  tinge,  had  more  the  appearance  of  a 
tuft  of  sea- weed  than  of  an  ordinary  beard.  Have  you  never 
seen  a  stick  of  timber,  that  has  been  long  tossed  about 
by  the  waves,  and  has  got  all  overgrown  with  barnacles, 
and,  at  last  drifting  ashore,  seems  to  have  been  thrown  up 
from  the  very  deepest  bottom  of  the  sea.  Well,  the  old 
man  would  have  put  you  in  mind  of  just  such  a  wave-tost 
spar  !  But  Hercules,  the  instant  he  set  eyes  on  this  strange 
figure,  was  convinced  that  it  could  be  no  other  than  the 
Old  One,  who  was  to  direct  him  on  his  way. 

Yes,  it  was  the  selfsame  Old  Man  of  the  Sea  whom 
the  hospitable  maidens  had  talked  to  him  about.  Thanking 
his  stars  for  the  lucky  accident  of  finding  the  old  fellow 
asleep,  Hercules  stole  on  tiptoe  towards  him,  and  caught 
him  by  the  arm  and  leg. 

*  Tell  me,'  cried  he,  before  the  Old  One  was  well 
awake, '  which  is  the  way  to  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  ? ' 

As  you  may  easily  imagine,  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea 
awoke  in  a  fright.  But  his  astonishment  could  hardly  have 
been  greater  than  was  that  of  Hercules,  the  next  moment. 
For,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  Old  One  seemed  to  disappear  out 
of  his  grasp,  and  he  found  himself  holding  a  stag  by  the 
fore  and  hind  leg  !  But  still  he  kept  fast  hold.  Then  the 
stag  disappeared,  and  in  its  stead  there  was  a  sea-bird, 
fluttering  and  screaming,  while  Hercules  clutched  it  by 
the  wing  and  claw  !  But  the  bird  could  not  get  away. 

119 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

Immediately  afterwards,  there  was  an  ugly  three-headed 
dog,  which  growled  and  barked  at  Hercules,  and  snapped 
fiercely  at  the  hands  by  which  he  held  him  !  But  Hercules 
would  not  let  him  go.  In  another  minute,  instead  of  the 
three-headed  dog,  what  should  appear  but  Geryon,  the 
six-legged  man-monster,  kicking  at  Hercules  with  five  of 
his  legs,  in  order  to  get  the  remaining  one  at  liberty  !  But 
Hercules  held  on.  By  and  by,  no  Geryon  was  there,  but 
a  huge  snake,  like  one  of  those  which  Hercules  had  strangled 
in  his  babyhood,  only  a  hundred  times  as  big  ;  and  it 
twisted  and  twined  about  the  hero's  neck  and  body,  and 
threw  its  tail  high  into  the  air,  and  opened  its  deadly  jaws 
as  if  to  devour  him  outright ;  so  that  it  was  really  a  very 
terrible  spectacle  !  But  Hercules  was  no  whit  disheartened, 
and  squeezed  the  great  snake  so  tightly  that  he  soon  began 
to  hiss  with  pain. 

You  must  understand  that  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea, 
though  he  generally  looked  so  much  like  the  wave-beaten 
figure-head  of  a  vessel,  had  the  power  of  assuming  any 
shape  he  pleased.  When  he  found  himself  so  roughly 
seized  by  Hercules,  he  had  been  in  hopes  of  putting  him 
into  such  surprise  and  terror,  by  these  magical  trans- 
formations, that  the  hero  would  be  glad  to  let  him  go. 
If  Hercules  had  relaxed  his  grasp,  the  Old  One  would 
certainly  have  plunged  down  to  the  very  bottom  of  the 
sea,  whence  he  would  not  soon  have  given  himself  the 
trouble  of  coming  up,  in  order  to  answer  any  impertinent 
questions.  Ninety-nine  people  out  of  a  hundred,  I  suppose, 
would  have  been  frightened  out  of  their  wits  by  the  very 
first  of  his  ugly  shapes,  and  would  have  taken  to  their 
heels  at  once.  For,  one  of  the  hardest  things  in  this  world 

1 20 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

is,  to  see  the  difference  between  real  dangers  and  imaginary 
ones. 

But,  as  Hercules  held  on  so  stubbornly,  and  only 
squeezed  the  Old  One  so  much  the  tighter  at  every  change 
of  shape,  and  really  put  him  to  no  small  torture,  he  finally 
thought  it  best  to  reappear  in  his  own  figure.  So  there  he 
was  again,  a  fishy,  scaly,  web-footed  sort  of  personage, 
with  something  like  a  tuft  of  sea- weed  at  his  chin. 

4  Pray,  what  do  you  want  with  me  ?  '  cried  the  Old 
One,  as  soon  as  he  could  take  breath  ;  for  it  is  quite  a 
tiresome  affair  to  go  through  so  many  false  shapes.  *  Why 
do  you  squeeze  me  so  hard  ?  Let  me  go,  this  moment,  or 
I  shall  begin  to  consider  you  an  extremely  uncivil  person  ! ' 

*  My  name  is  Hercules  ! '  roared  the  mighty  stranger. 
*  And  you  will  never  get  out  of  my  clutch,  until  you  tell 
me  the  nearest  way  to  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  !  ' 

When  the  old  fellow  heard  who  it  was  that  had  caught 
him,  he  saw,  with  half  an  eye,  that  it  would  be  necessary 
to  tell  him  everything  that  he  wanted  to  know.  The  Old 
One  was  an  inhabitant  of  the  sea,  you  must  recollect,  and 
roamed  about  everywhere,  like  other  sea-faring  people. 
Of  course,  he  had  often  heard  of  the  fame  of  Hercules,  and 
of  the  wonderful  things  that  he  was  constantly  performing 
in  various  parts  of  the  earth,  and  how  determined  he 
always  was  to  accomplish  whatever  he  undertook.  He 
therefore  made  no  more  attempts  to  escape,  but  told  the 
hero  how  to  find  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides,  and  likewise 
warned  him  of  many  difficulties  which  must  be  overcome, 
before  he  could  arrive  thither. 

'  You  must  go  on,  thus  and  thus,'  said  the  Old  Man  of 
the  Sea,  after  taking  the  points  of  the  compass,  *  till  you 
Q  121 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

come  in  sight  of  a  very  tall  giant,  who  holds  the  sky  on  his 
shoulders.  And  the  giant,  if  he  happens  to  be  in  the 
humour,  will  tell  you  exactly  where  the  garden  of  the 
Hesperides  lies.' 

*  And  if  the  giant  happens  not  to  be  in  the  humour/ 
remarked  Hercules,  balancing  his  club  on  the  tip  of  his 
finger,  *  perhaps  I  shall  find  means  to  persuade  him  !  ' 

Thanking  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea,  and  begging  his 
pardon  for  having  squeezed  him  so  roughly,  the  hero 
resumed  his  journey.  He  met  with  a  great  many  strange 
adventures,  which  would  be  well  worth  your  hearing,  if  I 
had  leisure  to  narrate  them  as  minutely  as  they  deserve. 

It  was  in  this  journey,  if  I  mistake  not,  that  he  en- 
countered a  prodigious  giant,  who  was  so  wonderfully 
contrived  by  nature,  that,  every  time  he  touched  the  earth, 
he  became  ten  times  as  strong  as  ever  he  had  been  before. 
His  name  was  Antasus.  You  may  see,  plainly  enough,  that 
it  was  a  very  difficult  business  to  fight  with  such  a  fellow  ; 
for,  as  often  as  he  got  a  knock-down  blow,  up  he  started 
again,  stronger,  fiercer,  and  abler  to  use  his  weapons,  than 
if  his  enemy  had  let  him  alone.  Thus,  the  harder  Hercules 
pounded  the  giant  with  his  club,  the  further  he  seemed 
from  winning  the  victory.  I  have  sometimes  argued  with 
such  people,  but  never  fought  with  one.  The  only  way 
in  which  Hercules  found  it  possible  to  finish  the  battle,  was 
by  lifting  Antaeus  off  his  feet  into  the  air,  and  squeezing, 
and  squeezing,  and  squeezing  him,  until  finally,  the  strength 
was  quite  squeezed  out  of  his  enormous  body. 

When  this  affair  was  finished,  Hercules  continued  his 
travels,  and  went  to  the  land  of  Egypt,  where  he  was  taken 
prisoner,  and  would  have  been  put  to  death,  if  he  had  not 

122 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

slain  the  king  of  the  country,  and  made  his  escape.  Passing 
through  the  deserts  of  Africa,  and  going  as  fast  as  he 
could,  he  arrived  at  last  on  the  shore  of  the  great  ocean. 
And  here,  unless  he  could  walk  on  the  crests  of  the  billows, 
it  seemed  as  if  his  journey  must  needs  be  at  an  end. 

Nothing  was  before  him,  save  the  foaming,  dashing, 
measureless  ocean.  But,  suddenly,  as  he  looked  towards 
the  horizon,  he  saw  something,  a  great  way  off,  which 
he  had  not  seen  the  moment  before.  It  gleamed  very 
brightly,  almost  as  you  may  have  beheld  the  round,  golden 
disk  of  the  sun,  when  it  rises  or  sets  over  the  edge  of  the 
world.  It  evidently  drew  nearer  ;  for,  at  every  instant, 
this  wonderful  object  became  larger  and  more  lustrous. 
At  length,  it  had  come  so  nigh  that  Hercules  discovered  it 
to  be  an  immense  cup  or  bowl,  made  either  of  gold  or 
burnished  brass.  How  it  had  got  afloat  upon  the  sea  is 
more  than  I  can  tell  you.  There  it  was,  at  all  events, 
rolling  on  the  tumultuous  billows,  which  tossed  it  up  and 
down,  and  heaved  their  foamy  tops  against  its  sides,  but 
without  ever  throwing  their  spray  over  the  brim. 

*  I  have  seen  many  giants,  in  my  time,'  thought 
Hercules,  '  but  never  one  that  would  need  to  drink  his 
wine  out  of  a  cup  like  this  !  ' 

And,  true  enough,  what  a  cup  it  must  have  been  !  It 
was  as  large — as  large — but,  in  short,  I  am  afraid  to  say 
how  immeasurably  large  it  was.  To  speak  within  bounds, 
it  was  ten  times  larger  than  a  great  mill-wheel ;  and,  all 
of  metal  as  it  was,  it  floated  over  the  heaving  surges  more 
lightly  than  an  acorn-cup  adown  the  brook.  The  waves 
tumbled  it  onward,  until  it  grazed  against  the  shore,  within 
a  short  distance  of  the  spot  where  Hercules  was  standing. 

133 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

As  soon  as  this  happened,  he  knew  what  was  to  be 
done  ;  for  he  had  not  gone  through  so  many  remarkable 
adventures  without  learning  pretty  well  how  to  conduct 
himself,  whenever  anything  came  to  pass  a  little  out  of  the 
common  rule.  It  was  just  as  clear  as  daylight  that  this 
marvellous  cup  had  been  set  adrift  by  some  unseen  power, 
and  guided  hitherward,  in  order  to  carry  Hercules  across 
the  sea,  on  his  way  to  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides. 
Accordingly,  without  a  moment's  delay,  he  clambered  over 
the  brim,  and  slid  down  on  the  inside,  where,  spreading 
out  his  lion's  skin,  he  proceeded  to  take  a  little  repose.  He 
had  scarcely  rested,  until  now,  since  he  bade  farewell  to 
the  damsels  on  the  margin  of  the  river.  The  waves 
dashed,  with  a  pleasant  and  ringing  sound,  against  the 
circumference  of  the  hollow  cup  ;  it  rocked  lightly  to  and 
fro,  and  the  motion  was  so  soothing  that  it  speedily  rocked 
Hercules  into  an  agreeable  slumber. 

His  nap  had  probably  lasted  a  good  while,  when  the 
cup  chanced  to  graze  against  a  rock,  and,  in  consequence, 
immediately  resounded  and  reverberated  through  its  golden 
or  brazen  substance,  a  hundred  times  as  loudly  as  ever  you 
heard  a  church-bell.  The  noise  awoke  Hercules,  who 
instantly  started  up  and  gazed  around  him,  wondering 
whereabouts  he  was.  He  was  not  long  in  discovering  that 
the  cup  had  floated  across  a  great  part  of  the  sea,  and  was 
approaching  the  shore  of  what  seemed  to  be  an  island. 
And,  on  that  island,  what  do  you  think  he  saw  ? 

No  ;  you  will  never  guess  it,  not  if  you  were  to  try 
fifty  thousand  times  !  It  positively  appears  to  me  that 
this  was  the  most  marvellous  spectacle  that  had  ever  been 
seen  by  Hercules,  in  the  whole  course  of  his  wonderful 

124 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

travels  and  adventures.  It  was  a  greater  marvel  than  the 
hydra  with  nine  heads,  which  kept  growing  twice  as  fast 
as  they  were  cut  off ;  greater  than  the  six-legged  man- 
monster  ;  greater  than  Antaeus  ;  greater  than  anything 
that  was  ever  beheld  by  anybody,  before  or  since  the  days 
of  Hercules,  or  than  anything  that  remains  to  be  beheld, 
by  travellers  in  all  time  to  come.  It  was  a  giant ! 

But  such  an  intolerably  big  giant !  A  giant  as  tall  as 
a  mountain  ;  so  vast  a  giant,  that  the  clouds  rested  about 
his  midst,  like  a  girdle,  and  hung  like  a  hoary  beard  from 
his  chin,  and  flitted  before  his  huge  eyes,  so  that  he  could 
neither  see  Hercules  nor  the  golden  cup  in  which  he  was 
voyaging.  And,  most  wonderful  of  all,  the  giant  held  up 
his  great  hands  and  appeared  to  support  the  sky,  which, 
so  far  as  Hercules  could  discern  through  the  clouds,  was 
resting  upon  his  head  J  This  does  really  seem  almost  too 
much  to  believe. 

Meanwhile,  the  bright  cup  continued  to  float  onward, 
and  finally  touched  the  strand.  Just  then  a  breeze  wafted 
away  the  clouds  from  before  the  giant's  visage,  and  Hercules 
beheld  it,  with  all  its  enormous  features  ;  eyes  each  of 
them  as  big  as  yonder  lake,  a  nose  a  mile  long,  and  a  mouth 
of  the  same  width.  It  was  a  countenance  terrible  from  its 
enormity  of  size,  but  disconsolate  and  weary,  even  as  you 
may  see  the  faces  of  many  people,  nowadays,  who  are 
compelled  to  sustain  burdens  above  their  strength.  What 
the  sky  was  to  the  giant,  such  are  the  cares  of  earth  to  those 
who  let  themselves  be  weighed  down  by  them.  And 
whenever  men  undertake  what  is  beyond  the  just  measure 
of  their  abilities  they  encounter  precisely  such  a  doom  as 
had  befallen  this  poor  giant. 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

Poor  fellow  !  He  had  evidently  stood  there  a  long 
while.  An  ancient  forest  had  been  growing  and  decaying 
around  his  feet ;  and  oak  trees,  of  six  or  seven  centuries 
old,  had  sprung  from  the  acorn,  and  forced  themselves 
between  his  toes. 

The  giant  now  looked  down  from  the  far  height  of  his 
great  eyes,  and,  perceiving  Hercules,  roared  out,  in  a  voice 
that  resembled  thunder,  proceeding  out  of  the  cloud  that 
had  just  flitted  away  from  his  face. 

*  Who  are  you,  down  at  my  feet  there  ?    And  whence 
do  you  come,  in  that  little  cup  ?  ' 

*  I  am  Hercules  !  '  thundered  back  the  hero,  in  a  voice 
pretty  nearly  or  quite  as  loud  as  the  giant's  own.    *  And 
I  am  seeking  for  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  ! ' 

*  Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  '  roared  the  giant,  in  a  fit  of  immense 
laughter.    *  That  is  a  wise  adventure,  truly  ! ' 

*  And  why  not  ?  '  cried  Hercules,  getting  a  little  angry 
at  the  giant's  mirth.    *  Do  you  think  I  am  afraid  of  the 
dragon  with  a  hundred  heads  !  ' 

Just  at  this  time,  while  they  were  talking  together, 
some  black  clouds  gathered  about  the  giant's  middle,  and 
burst  into  a  tremendous  storm  of  thunder  and  lightning, 
causing  such  a  pother  that  Hercules  found  it  impossible  to 
distinguish  a  word.  Only  the  giant's  immeasurable  legs 
were  to  be  seen,  standing  up  into  the  obscurity  of  the 
tempest ;  and  now  and  then  a  momentary  glimpse  of  his 
whole  figure,  mantled  in  a  volume  of  mist.  He  seemed  to 
be  speaking  most  of  the  time  ;  but  his  big,  deep,  rough 
voice  chimed  in  with  the  reverberations  of  the  thunder- 
claps, and  rolled  away  over  the  hills,  like  them.  Thus,  by 
talking  out  of  season,  the  foolish  giant  expended  an  in- 

126 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

calculable  quantity  of  breath  to  no  purpose  ;  for  the 
thunder  spoke  quite  as  intelligibly  as  he. 

At  last,  the  storm  swept  over,  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
come.  And  there  again  was  the  clear  sky,  and  the  weary 
giant  holding  it  up,  and  the  pleasant  sunshine  beaming 
over  his  vast  height,  and  illuminating  it  against  the  back- 
ground of  the  sullen  thunder-clouds.  So  far  above  the 
shower  had  been  his  head,  that  not  a  hair  of  it  was  moistened 
by  the  rain-drops  ! 

When  the  giant  could  see  Hercules  still  standing  on  the 
sea-shore,  he  roared  out  to  him  anew. 

*  I  am  Atlas,  the  mightiest  giant  in  the  world  !    And 
I  hold  the  sky  upon  my  head  !  ' 

*  So  I  see/  answered  Hercules.    *  But,  can  you  show 
me  the  way  to  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  ? ' 

*  What  do  you  want  there  ?  '  asked  the  giant. 

*  I  want  three  of  the  golden  apples/  shouted  Hercules, 
*  for  my  cousin,  the  king.' 

*  There  is  nobody  but  myself/  quoth  the  giant,  €  that 
can  go  to  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides,  and  gather  the 
golden  apples.    If  it  were  not  for  this  little  business  of 
holding  up  the  sky,  I  would  make  half  a  dozen  steps  across 
the  sea,  and  get  them  for  you.' 

'  You  are  very  kind/  replied  Hercules.  *  And  cannot 
you  rest  the  sky  upon  a  mountain  ?  ' 

*  None  of  them  are  quite  high  enough/  said  Atlas, 
shaking  his  head.    *  But,  if  you  were  to  take  your  stand  on 
the  summit  of  that  nearest  one,  your  head  would  be 
pretty  nearly  on  a  level  with  mine.    You  seem  to  be  a 
fellow  of  some  strength.    What  if  you  should  take  my 
burden  on  your  shoulders,  while  I  do  your  errand  for  you  ?  ' 

127 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

Hercules,  as  you  must  be  careful  to  remember,  was  a 
remarkably  strong  man  ;  and  though  it  certainly  requires 
a  great  deal  of  muscular  power  to  uphold  the  sky,  yet,  if 
any  mortal  could  be  supposed  capable  of  such  an  exploit, 
he  was  the  one.  Nevertheless,  it  seemed  so  difficult  an 
undertaking,  that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  hesitated. 

*  Is  the  sky  very  heavy  ?  '  he  inquired. 

*  Why,  not  particularly  so,  at  first/  answered  the  giant, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.    '  But  it  gets  to  be  a  little  burden- 
some, after  a  thousand  years  !  * 

*  And  how  long  a  time,'  asked  the  hero,  *  will  it  take 
you  to  get  the  golden  apples  ? ' 

'  Oh,  that  will  be  done  in  a  few  minutes/  cried  Atlas. 
*  I  shall  take  ten  or  fifteen  miles  at  a  stride,  and  be  at  the 
garden  and  back  again  before  your  shoulders  begin  to  ache/ 

*  Well,  then/  answered  Hercules,  *  I  will  climb  the 
mountain  behind  you  there,  and  relieve  you  of  your  burden/ 

The  truth  is,  Hercules  had  a  kind  heart  of  his  own,  and 
considered  that  he  should  be  doing  the  giant  a  favour,  by 
allowing  him  this  opportunity  for  a  ramble.  And,  besides, 
he  thought  that  it  would  be  still  more  for  his  own  glory, 
if  he  could  boast  of  upholding  the  sky  than  merely  to  do  so 
ordinary  a  thing  as  to  conquer  a  dragon  with  a  hundred 
heads.  Accordingly,  without  more  words,  the  sky  was 
shifted  from  the  shoulders  of  Atlas,  and  placed  upon  those 
of  Hercules. 

When  this  was  safely  accomplished,  the  first  thing  that 
the  giant  did  was  to  stretch  himself ;  and  you  may  imagine 
what  a  prodigious  spectacle  he  was  then.  Next,  he 
slowly  lifted  one  of  his  feet  out  of  the  forest  that  had  grown 
up  around  it ;  then,  the  other.  Then  all  at  once,  he  began 

128 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

to  caper,  and  leap,  and  dance,  for  joy  at  his  freedom  ; 
flinging  himself  nobody  knows  how  high  into  the  air,  and 
floundering  down  again  with  a  shock  that  made  the  earth 
tremble.  Then  he  laughed — Ho  !  ho  !  ho  ! — with  a 
thunderous  roar  that  was  echoed  from  the  mountains,  far 
and  near,  as  if  they  and  the  giant  had  been  so  many  re- 
joicing brothers.  When  his  joy  had  a  little  subsided,  he 
stepped  into  the  sea  ;  ten  miles  at  the  first  stride,  which 
brought  him  midleg  deep  ;  and  ten  miles  at  the  second, 
when  the  water  came  just  above  his  knees  ;  and  ten  miles 
more  at  the  third,  by  which  he  was  immersed  nearly  to  his 
waist.  This  was  the  greatest  depth  of  the  sea. 

Hercules  watched  the  giant,  as  he  still  went  onward  ; 
for  it  was  really  a  wonderful  sight,  this  immense  human 
form,  more  than  thirty  miles  off,  half  hidden  in  the  ocean, 
but  with  his  upper  half  as  tall,  and  misty,  and  blue,  as  a 
distant  mountain.  At  last  the  gigantic  shape  faded  entirely 
out  of  view.  And  now  Hercules  began  to  consider  what 
he  should  do,  in  case  Atlas  should  be  drowned  in  the  sea, 
or  if  he  were  to  be  stung  to  death  by  the  dragon  with  the 
hundred  heads,  which  guarded  the  golden  apples  of  the 
Hesperides.  If  any  such  misfortune  were  to  happen,  how 
could  he  ever  get  rid  of  the  sky  ?  And,  by  and  by,  its 
weight  began  already  to  be  a  little  irksome  to  his  head 
and  shoulders. 

*  I  really  pity  the  poor  giant/  thought  Hercules.  '  If 
it  wearies  me  so  much  in  ten  minutes,  how  must  it  have 
wearied  him  in  a  thousand  years  ! ' 

O  my  sweet  little  people,  you  have  no  idea  what  a 
weight  there  was  in  that  same  blue  sky,  which  looks  so 
soft  and  aerial  above  our  heads  !  And  there,  too,  was  the 
R  129 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

bluster  of  the  wind,  and  the  chill  and  watery  clouds,  and 
the  blazing  sun,  all  taking  their  turns  to  make  Hercules 
uncomfortable  !  He  began  to  be  afraid  that  the  giant 
would  never  come  back.  He  gazed  wistfully  at  the  world 
beneath  him,  and  acknowledged  to  himself  that  it  was  a 
far  happier  kind  of  life  to  be  a  shepherd  at  the  foot  of  a 
mountain,  than  to  stand  on  its  dizzy  summit,  and  bear  up 
the  firmament  with  his  might  and  main.  For,  of  course, 
as  you  will  easily  understand,  Hercules  had  an  immense 
responsibility  on  his  mind,  as  well  as  a  weight  on  his  head 
and  shoulders.  Why,  if  he  did  not  stand  perfectly  still, 
and  keep  the  sky  immovable,  the  sun  would  perhaps  be 
put  ajar  ?  Or,  after  nightfall,  a  great  many  of  the  stars 
might  be  loosened  from  their  places,  and  shower  down, 
like  fiery  rain,  upon  the  peoples'  heads !  And  how 
ashamed  would  the  hero  be,  if,  owing  to  his  unsteadiness 
beneath  its  weight,  the  sky  should  crack,  and  show  a  great 
fissure  quite  across  it ! 

I  know  not  how  long  it  was  before,  to  his  unspeakable 
joy,  he  beheld  the  huge  shape  of  the  giant,  like  a  cloud, 
on  the  far-off  edge  of  the  sea.  At  his  nearer  approach, 
Atlas  held  up  his  hand,  in  which  Hercules  could  perceive 
three  magnificent  golden  apples,  as  big  as  pumpkins,  all 
hanging  from  one  branch. 

*  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,'  shouted  Hercules,  when 
the  giant  was  within  hearing.  *  So  you  have  got  the  golden 
apples  ?  ' 

'  Certainly,  certainly,'  answered  Atlas  ;  '  and  very  fair 
apples  they  are.  I  took  the  finest  that  grew  on  the  tree, 
I  assure  you.  Ah  !  it  is  a  beautiful  spot,  that  garden  of  the 
Hesperides.  Yes  ;  and  the  dragon  with  a  hundred  heads 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

is  a  sight  worth  any  man's  seeing.    After  all,  you  had  better 
have  gone  for  the  apples  yourself.' 

*  No   matter,'   replied   Hercules.    '  You   have   had   a 
pleasant  ramble,  and  have  done  the  business  as  well  as  I 
could.    I  heartily  thank  you  for  your  trouble.    And  now, 
as  I  have  a  long  way  to  go,  and  am  rather  in  haste, — and 
as  the  king,  my  cousin,  is  anxious  to  receive  the  golden 
apples, — will  you  be  kind  enough  to  take  the  sky  off  my 
shoulders  again  ?  ' 

*  Why,  as  to  that,'  said  the  giant,  chucking  the  golden 
apples  into  the  air  twenty  miles  high,  or  thereabouts,  and 
catching  them  as  they  came  down, — *  as  to  that,  my  good 
friend,  I  consider  you  a  little  unreasonable.    Cannot  I 
carry  the  golden  apples  to  the  king,  your  cousin,  much 
quicker  than  you  could  ?    As  his  majesty  is  in  such  a  hurry 
to  get  them,  I  promise  you  to  take  my  longest  strides.    And, 
besides,  I  have  no  fancy  for  burdening  myself  with  the 
sky,  just  now.' 

Here  Hercules  grew  impatient,  and  gave  a  great  shrug 
of  his  shoulders.  It  being  now  twilight,  you  might  have 
seen  two  or  three  stars  tumble  out  of  their  places.  Every- 
body on  earth  looked  upward  in  affright,  thinking  that 
the  sky  might  be  going  to  fall  next. 

*  Oh,  that  will  never  do  !  '   cried  Giant  Atlas,  with  a 
great  roar  of  laughter.    '  I  have  not  let  fall  so  many  stars 
within  the   last  five  centuries.     By  the  time  you  have 
stood  there  as  long  as  I  did,  you  will  begin  to  learn 
patience  ! ' 

*  What ! '   shouted  Hercules,  very  wrathfully,  *  do  you 
intend  to  make  me  bear  this  burden  for  ever  ?  ' 

*  We  will  see  about  that,  one  of  these  days,'  answered 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

the  giant.  *  At  all  events,  you  ought  not  to  complain,  if 
you  have  to  bear  it  the  next  hundred  years,  or  perhaps  the 
next  thousand.  I  bore  it  a  good  while  longer,  in  spite  of 
the  back-ache.  Well,  then,  after  a  thousand  years,  if  I 
happen  to  feel  in  the  mood,  we  may  possibly  shift  about 
again.  You  are  certainly  a  very  strong  man,  and  can 
never  have  a  better  opportunity  to  prove  it.  Posterity 
will  talk  of  you,  I  warrant  it  1 ' 

*  Pish  !  a  fig  for  its  talk  ! '  cried  Hercules,  with  another 
hitch  of  his  shoulders.  *  Just  take  the  sky  upon  your  head 
one  instant,  will  you  ?  I  want  to  make  a  cushion  of  my 
lion's  skin,  for  the  weight  to  rest  upon.  It  really  chafes 
me,  and  will  cause  unnecessary  inconvenience  in  so  many 
centuries  as  I  am  to  stand  here.' 

'  That 's  no  more  than  fair,  and  I  '11  do  it ! '  quoth  the 
giant ;  for  he  had  no  unkind  feeling  towards  Hercules, 
and  was  merely  acting  with  a  too  selfish  consideration  of 
his  own  ease.  '  For  just  five  minutes,  then,  I  '11  take 
back  the  sky.  Only  for  five  minutes,  recollect  1  I  have 
no  idea  of  spending  another  thousand  years  as  I  spent  the 
last.  Variety  is  the  spice  of  life,  say  I.' 

Ah,  the  thick-witted  old  rogue  of  a  giant !  He  threw 
down  the  golden  apples,  and  received  back  the  sky,  from 
the  head  and  shoulders  of  Hercules,  upon  his  own,  where 
it  rightly  belonged.  And  Hercules  picked  up  the  three 
golden  apples,  that  were  as  big  or  bigger  than  pumpkins, 
and  straightway  set  out  on  his  journey  homeward,  without 
paying  the  slightest  heed  to  the  thundering  tones  of  the 
giant,  who  bellowed  after  him  to  come  back.  Another 
forest  sprang  up  around  his  feet,  and  grew  ancient  there  ; 
and  again  might  be  seen  oak-trees,  of  six  or  seven 

132 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

centuries  old,  that   had   waxed   thus  aged   betwixt   his 
enormous  toes. 

And  there  stands  the  giant  to  this  day  ;  or,  at  any  rate, 
there  stands  a  mountain  as  tall  as  he,  and  which  bears  his 
name  ;  and  when  the  thunder  rumbles  about  its  summit, 
we  may  imagine  it  to  be  the  voice  of  Giant  Atlas,  bellowing 
after  Hercules  1 


'33 


TANGLEWOOD   FIRESIDE 


c 


AFTER  THE  STORY 

|OUSIN  EUSTACE/  demanded  Sweet  Fern,  who 
had  been  sitting  at  the  story-teller's  feet  with 
his  mouth  wide  open,  *  exactly  how  tall  was  this 
giant  ?  ' 

*  O  Sweet  Fern,  Sweet  Fern  ! '  cried  the  student,  *  do 
you  think  I  was  there,  to  measure  him  with  a  yard-stick  ? 
Well,  if  you  must  know  to  a  hair's-breadth,  I  suppose  he 
might  be  from  three  to  fifteen  miles  straight  upward,  and 
that  he  might  have  seated  himself  on  Taconic,  and  had 
Monument  Mountain  for  a  footstool.' 

'  Dear  me  !  '  ejaculated  the  good  little  boy,  with  a  con- 
tented sort  of  a  grunt,  *  that  was  a  giant  sure  enough  ! 
And  how  long  was  his  little  finger  ?  ' 

'  As  long  as  from  Tangle  wood  to  the  lake,'  said  Eustace. 

'34 


THE  THREE  GOLDEN  APPLES 

1  Sure  enough,  that  was  a  giant ! '  repeated  Sweet  Fern, 
in  an  ecstasy  at  the  precision  of  these  measurements.  *  And 
how  broad,  I  wonder,  were  the  shoulders  of  Hercules  ? ' 

[  That  is  what  I  have  never  been  able  to  find  out,' 
answered  the  student.  *  But  I  think  they  must  have  been 
a  great  deal  broader  than  mine,  or  than  your  father's,  or 
than  almost  any  shoulders  which  one  sees  nowadays.' 

*  I  wish/  whispered  Sweet  Fern,  with  his  mouth  close 
to  the  student's  ear,  *  that  you  would  tell  me  how  big  were 
some  of  the  oak-trees  that  grew  between  the  giant's  toes.' 

*  They  were  bigger,'  said  Eustace,  *  than  the  great 
chestnut-tree  which  stands  beyond  Captain  Smith's  house.' 

*  Eustace,'  remarked  Mr.  Pringle,  after  some  delibera- 
tion, *  I  find  it  impossible  to  express  such  an  opinion  of 
this  story  as  will  be  likely  to  gratify,  in  the  smallest  degree, 
your  pride  of  authorship.    Pray  let  me  advise  you  never 
more  to  meddle  with  a  classical  myth.    Your  imagination 
is  altogether  Gothic,  and  will  inevitably  Gothicise   every- 
thing that  you  touch.    The  effect  is  like  bedaubing  a 
marble  statue  with  paint.    This  giant,  now  !      How  can 
you  have  ventured  to  thrust  his  huge,  disproportioned  mass 
among  the  seemly  outlines  of  Grecian  fable,  the  tendency 
of  which  is  to  reduce  even  the  extravagant  within  limits,  by 
its  pervading  elegance  ?  ' 

*  I  described  the  giant  as  he  appeared  to  me,'  replied 
the  student,  rather  piqued.    *  And,  sir,  if  you  would  only 
bring  your  mind  into  such  a  relation  with  these  fables  as 
is  necessary  in  order  to  remodel  them,  you  would  see  at 
once  that  an  old  Greek  had  no  more  exclusive  right  to 
them  than  a  modern  Yankee  has.    They  are  the  common 
property  of  the  world,  and  of  all  time.    The  ancient  poets 

135 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

remodelled  them  at  pleasure,  and  held  them  plastic  in  their 
hands  ;  and  why  should  they  not  be  plastic  in  my  hands 
as  well  ? ' 

Mr.  Pringle  could  not  forbear  a  smile. 

c  And  besides/  continued  Eustace,  '  the  moment  you 
put  any  warmth  of  heart,  any  passion  or  affection,  any 
human  or  divine  morality,  into  a  classic  mould,  you  make 
it  quite  another  thing  from  what  it  was  before.  My  own 
opinion  is,  that  the  Greeks,  by  taking  possession  of  these 
legends  (which  were  the  immemorial  birthright  of  man- 
kind), and  putting  them  into  shapes  of  indestructible 
beauty,  indeed,  but  cold  and  heartless,  have  done  all 
subsequent  ages  an  incalculable  injury.' 

*  Which  you,  doubtless,  were  born  to  remedy/  said 
Mr.  Pringle,  laughing  outright.  *  Well,  well,  go  on  ;  but 
take  my  advice,  and  never  put  any  of  your  travesties  on 
paper.  And,  as  your  next  effort,  what  if  you  should  try 
your  hand  on  some  one  of  the  legends  of  Apollo  ?  ' 

'  Ah,  sir,  you  propose  it  as  an  impossibility/  observed 
the  student,  after  a  moment's  meditation  ;  *  and,  to  be 
sure,  at  first  thought,  the  idea  of  a  Gothic  Apollo  strikes  one 
rather  ludicrously.  But  I  will  turn  over  your  suggestion 
in  my  mind,  and  do  not  quite  despair  of  success/ 

During  the  above  discussion  the  children  (who  under- 
stood not  a  word  of  it)  had  grown  very  sleepy,  and  were 
now  sent  off  to  bed.  Their  drowsy  babble  was  heard, 
ascending  the  staircase,  while  a  north-west  wind  roared 
loudly  among  the  tree-tops  of  Tanglewood,  and  played 
an  anthem  around  the  house.  Eustace  Bright  went  back 
to  the  study,  and  again  endeavoured  to  hammer  out  some 
verses,  but  fell  asleep  between  two  of  the  rhymes. 

136 


THE   MIRACULOUS   PITCHER 


THE   HILL-SIDE 

INTRODUCTORY  TO 
THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER' 


AD  when,  and  where,  do  you  think  we  find  the 
children  next  ?  No  longer  in  the  winter- time, 
but  in  the  merry  month  of  May.  No  longer  in 
Tanglewood  play-room,  or  at  Tanglewood  fireside,  but 
more  than  half-way  up  a  monstrous  hill,  or  a  mountain,  as 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  pleased  to  have  us  call  it.  They 
had  set  out  from  home  with  the  mighty  purpose  of  climbing 
this  high  hill,  even  to  the  very  tiptop  of  its  bald  head. 
To  be  sure,  it  was  not  quite  so  high  as  Chimborazo,  or 
Mont  Blanc,  and  was  even  a  good  deal  lower  than  old 
Graylock.  But,  at  any  rate,  it  was  higher  than  a  thousand 
ant-hillocks,  or  a  million  of  mole-hills ;  and,  when 
measured  by  the  short  strides  of  little  children,  might  be 
reckoned  a  very  respectable  mountain. 

'39 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

And  was  Cousin  Eustace  with  the  party  ?  Of  that  you 
may  be  certain  ;  else  how  could  the  book  go  on  a  step 
further  ?  He  was  now  in  the  middle  of  the  spring  vacation, 
and  looked  pretty  much  as  we  saw  him  four  or  five  months 
ago,  except  that,  if  you  gazed  quite  closely  at  his  upper  lip, 
you  could  discern  the  funniest  little  bit  of  a  moustache 
upon  it.  Setting  aside  this  mark  of  mature  manhood,  you 
might  have  considered  Cousin  Eustace  just  as  much  a  boy 
as  when  you  first  became  acquainted  with  him.  He  was  as 
merry,  as  playful,  as  good-humoured,  as  light  of  foot  and  of 
spirits,  and  equally  a  favourite  with  the  little  folks,  as  he 
had  always  been.  This  expedition  up  the  mountain  was 
entirely  of  his  contrivance.  All  the  way  up  the  steep 
ascent,  he  had  encouraged  the  elder  children  with  his 
cheerful  voice ;  and  when  Dandelion,  Cowslip,  and 
Squash-Blossom  grew  weary,  he  had  lugged  them  along 
alternately,  on  his  back.  In  this  manner,  they  had  passed 
through  orchards  and  pastures  on  the  lower  part  of  the  hill, 
and  had  reached  the  wood,  which  extends  thence  towards 
its  bare  summit. 

The  month  of  May,  thus  far,  had  been  more  amiable 
than  it  often  is,  and  this  was  as  sweet  and  genial  a  day  as 
the  heart  of  man  or  child  could  wish.  In  their  progress 
up  the  hill,  the  small  people  had  found  enough  of  violets, 
blue  and  white,  and  some  that  were  as  golden  as  if  they  had 
the  touch  of  Midas  on  them.  That  sociablest  of  flowers,  the 
little  Houstonia,  was  very  abundant.  It  is  a  flower  that 
never  lives  alone,  but  which  loves  its  own  kind,  and  is 
always  fond  of  dwelling  with  a  great  many  friends  and 
relatives  around  it.  Sometimes  you  see  a  family  of  them 
covering  a  space  no  bigger  than  the  palm  of  your  hand  ; 

140 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

and  sometimes  a  large  community,  whitening  a  whole 
tract  of  pasture,  and  all  keeping  one  another  in  cheerful 
heart  and  life. 

Within  the  verge  of  the  wood  there  were  columbines, 
looking  more  pale  than  red,  because  they  were  so  modest, 
and  had  thought  proper  to  seclude  themselves  too  anxiously 
from  the  sun.  There  were  wild  geraniums,  too,  and  a 
thousand  white  blossoms  of  the  strawberry.  The  trailing 
arbutus  was  not  yet  quite  out  of  bloom  ;  but  it  hid  its 
precious  flowers  under  the  last  year's  withered  forest- 
leaves,  as  carefully  as  a  mother-bird  hides  its  little  young 
ones.  It  knew,  I  suppose,  how  beautiful  and  sweet- 
scented  they  were.  So  cunning  was  their  concealment, 
that  the  children  sometimes  smelt  the  delicate  richness  of 
their  perfume  before  they  knew  whence  it  proceeded. 

Amid  so  much  new  life,  it  was  strange  and  truly  pitiful 
to  behold,  here  and  there,  in  the  fields  and  pastures,  the 
hoary  periwigs  of  dandelions  that  had  already  gone  to  seed. 
They  had  done  with  summer  before  the  summer  came. 
Within  those  small  globes  of  winged  seeds  it  was  autumn 
now  ! 

Well,  but  we  must  not  waste  our  valuable  pages  with 
any  more  talk  about  the  spring-time  and  wild  flowers. 
There  is  something,  we  hope,  more  interesting  to  be  talked 
about.  If  you  look  at  the  group  of  children,  you  may  see 
them  all  gathered  around  Eustace  Bright,  who,  sitting  on 
the  stump  of  a  tree,  seems  to  be  just  beginning  a  story. 
The  fact  is,  the  younger  part  of  the  troop  have  found  out 
that  it  takes  rather  too  many  of  their  short  strides  to  measure 
the  long  ascent  of  the  hill.  Cousin  Eustace,  therefore,  has 
decided  to  leave  Sweet  Fern,  Cowslip,  Squash-Blossom,  and 

141 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

Dandelion,  at  this  point,  midway  up,  until  the  return  of 
the  rest  of  the  party  from  the  summit.  And  because  they 
complain  a  little,  and  do  not  quite  like  to  stay  behind,  he 
gives  them  some  apples  out  of  his  pocket,  and  proposes  to 
tell  them  a  very  pretty  story.  Hereupon  they  brighten  up, 
and  change  their  grieved  looks  into  the  broadest  kind  of 
smiles. 

As  for  the  story,  I  was  there  to  hear  it,  hidden  behind 
a  bush,  and  shall  tell  it  over  to  you  in  the  pages  that  come 
next. 


142 


THE   MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 


ONE  evening,  in  times  long  ago,  old  Philemon  and 
his  old  wife  Baucis  sat  at  their  cottage-door, 
enjoying  the  calm  and  beautiful  sunset.  They 
had  already  eaten  their  frugal  supper,  and  intended  now 
to  spend  a  quiet  hour  or  two  before  bedtime.  So  they 
talked  together  about  their  garden,  and  their  cow,  and 
their  bees,  and  their  grape-vine,  which  clambered  over  the 
cottage-wall,  and  on  which  the  g~£pes  were  beginning  to 
turn  purple.  But  the  rude  shouts  of  children,  and  the 
fierce  barking  of  dogs,  in  the  village  near  at  hand,  grew 
louder  and  louder,  until,  at  last,  it  was  hardly  possible  for 
Baucis  and  Philemon  to  hear  each  other  speak. 

*  Ah,  wife,'  cried  Philemon,  *  I  fear  some  poor  traveller 
is  seeking  hospitality  among  our  neighbours  yonder,  and, 
instead  of  giving  him  food  and  lodging,  they  have  set  their 
dogs  at  him,  as  their  custom  is  ! ' 

143 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

'  Well-a-day  1 '  answered  old  Baucis,  '  I  do  wish  our 
neighbours  felt  a  little  more  kindness  for  their  fellow- 
creatures.  And  only  think  of  bringing  up  their  children 
in  this  naughty  way,  and  patting  them  on  the  head  when 
they  fling  stones  at  strangers  ! ' 

1  Those  children  will  never  come  to  any  good/  said 
Philemon,  shaking  his  white  head.  *  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  wife,  I  should  not  wonder  if  some  terrible  thing 
were  to  happen  to  all  the  people  in  the  village,  unless  they 
mend  their  manners.  But,  as  for  you  and  me,  so  long  as 
Providence  affords  us  a  crust  of  bread,  let  us  be  ready  to 
give  half  to  any  poor,  homeless  stranger,  that  may  come 
along  and  need  it.' 

*  That 's  right,  husband  ! '  said  Baucis.    '  So  we  will ! ' 

These  old  folks,  you  must  know,  were  quite  poor,  and 
had  to  work  pretty  hard  for  a  living.  Old  Philemon  toiled 
diligently  in  his  garden,  while  Baucis  was  always  busy  with 
her  distaff,  or  making  a  little  butter  and  cheese  with  their 
cow's  milk,  or  doing  one  thing  and  another  about  the 
cottage.  Their  food  was  seldom  anything  but  bread,  milk, 
and  vegetables,  with  sometimes  a  portion  of  honey  from 
their  beehive,  and  now  and  then  a  bunch  of  grapes,  that 
had  ripened  against  the  cottage  wall.  But  they  were  two 
of  the  kindest  old  people  in  the  world,  and  would  cheer- 
fully have  gone  without  their  dinners,  any  day,  rather  than 
refuse  a  slice  of  their  brown  loaf,  a  cup  of  new  milk,  and  a 
spoonful  of  honey,  to  the  weary  traveller  who  might  pause 
before  their  door.  They  felt  as  if  such  guests  had  a  sort 
of  holiness,  and  that  they  ought,  therefore,  to  treat  them 
better  and  more  bountifully  than  their  own  selves. 

Their  cottage  stood  on  a  rising  ground,  at  some  short 

144 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

distance  from  the  village,  which  lay  in  a  hollow  valley, 
that  was  about  half  a  mile  in  breadth.  This  valley,  in  past 
ages,  when  the  world  was  new,  had  probably  been  the  bed 
of  a  lake.  There,  fishes  had  glided  to  and  fro  in  the  depths, 
and  water-weeds  had  grown  along  the  margin,  and  trees 
and  hills  had  seen  their  reflected  images  in  the  broad  and 
peaceful  mirror.  But,  as  the  waters  subsided,  men  had 
cultivated  the  soil,  and  built  houses  on  it,  so  that  it  was  now 
a  fertile  spot,  and  bore  no  traces  of  the  ancient  lake,  except 
a  very  small  brook,  which  meandered  through  the  midst 
of  the  village,  and  supplied  the  inhabitants  with  water 
The  valley  had  been  dry  land  so  long,  that  oaks  had  sprung 
up,  and  grown  great  and  high,  and  perished  with  old  age, 
and  been  succeeded  by  others,  as  tall  and  stately  as  the 
first.  Never  was  there  a  prettier  or  more  fruitful  valley. 
The  very  sight  of  the  plenty  around  them  should  have  made 
the  inhabitants  kind  and  gentle,  and  ready  to  show  their 
gratitude  to  Providence  by  doing  good  to  their  fellow- 
creatures. 

But,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  the  people  of  this  lovely 
village  were  not  worthy  to  dwell  in  a  spot  on  which 
Heaven  had  smiled  so  beneficently.  They  were  a  very 
selfish  and  hard-hearted  people,  and  had  no  pity  for  the 
poor,  nor  sympathy  with  the  homeless.  They  would 
only  have  laughed,  had  anybody  told  them  that  human 
beings  owe  a  debt  of  love  to  one  another,  because  there  is 
no  other  method  of  paying  the  debt  of  love  and  care  which 
all  of  us  owe  to  Providence.  You  will  hardly  believe  what 
I  am  going  to  tell  you.  These  naughty  people  taught  their 
children  to  be  no  better  than  themselves,  and  used  to  clap 
their  hands,  by  way  of  encouragement,  when  they  saw  the 

T  145 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

little  boys  and  girls  run  after  some  poor  stranger,  shouting 
at  his  heels,  and  pelting  him  with  stones.  They  kept  large 
and  fierce  dogs,  and  whenever  a  traveller  ventured  to  show 
himself  in  the  village  street,  this  pack  of  disagreeable  curs 
scampered  to  meet  him,  barking,  snarling,  and  showing  their 
teeth.  Then  they  would  seize  him  by  his  leg  or  by  his 
clothes,  just  as  it  happened  ;  and  if  he  were  ragged  when 
he  came,  he  was  generally  a  pitiable  object  before  he  had 
time  to  run  away.  This  was  a  very  terrible  thing  to  poor 
travellers,  as  you  may  suppose,  especially  when  they 
chanced  to  be  sick  or  feeble,  or  lame,  or  old.  Such  persons 
(if  they  once  knew  how  badly  these  unkind  people,  and 
their  unkind  children  and  curs,  were  in  the  habit  of 
behaving)  would  go  miles  and  miles  out  of  their  way, 
rather  than  try  to  pass  through  the  village  again. 

What  made  the  matter  seem  worse  if  possible,  was  that 
when  rich  persons  came  in  their  chariots,  or  riding  on 
beautiful  horses,  with  their  servants  in  rich  liveries  attending 
on  them,  nobody  could  be  more  civil  and  obsequious  than 
the  inhabitants  of  the  village.  They  would  take  off  their 
hats,  and  make  the  humblest  bows  you  ever  saw.  If  the 
children  were  rude,  they  were  pretty  certain  to  get  their 
ears  boxed  ;  and  as  for  the  dogs,  if  a  single  cur  in  the  pack 
presumed  to  yelp,  his  master  instantly  beat  him  with  a 
club,  and  tied  him  up  without  any  supper.  This  would 
have  been  all  very  well,  only  it  proved  that  the  villagers 
cared  much  about  the  money  that  a  stranger  had  in  his 
pocket,  and  nothing  whatever  for  the  human  soul,  which 
lives  equally  in  the  beggar  and  the  prince. 

So  now  you  can  understand  why  old  Philemon  spoke 
so  sorrowfully,  when  he  heard  the  shouts  of  the  children 

146 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

and  the  barking  of  the  dogs,  at  the  farther  extremity  of  the 
village  street.  There  was  a  confused  din,  which  lasted  a 
good  while,  and  seemed  to  pass  quite  through  the  breadth 
of  the  valley. 

'  I  never  heard  the  dogs  so  loud  ! '  observed  the  good 
old  man. 

'  Nor  the  children  so  rude ! '  answered  his  good  old  wife. 

They  sat  shaking  their  heads,  one  to  another,  while 
the  noise  came  nearer  and  nearer  ;  until  at  the  foot  of  the 
little  eminence  on  which  their  cottage  stood,  they  saw  two 
travellers  approaching  on  foot.  Close  behind  them  came 
the  fierce  dogs,  snarling  at  their  very  heels.  A  little 
further  off,  ran  a  crowd  of  children,  who  sent  up  shrill 
cries,  and  flung  stones  at  the  two  strangers  with  all  their 
might.  Once  or  twice,  the  younger  of  the  two  men  (he  was 
a  slender  and  very  active  figure)  turned  about  and  drove 
back  the  dogs  with  a  staff  which  he  carried  in  his  hand. 
His  companion,  who  was  a  very  tall  person,  walked  calmly 
along,  as  if  disdaining  to  notice  either  the  naughty  children, 
or  the  pack  of  curs,  whose  manners  the  children  seemed  to 
imitate. 

Both  of  the  travellers  were  very  humbly  clad,  and 
looked  as  if  they  might  not  have  money  enough  in  their 
pockets  to  pay  for  a  night's  lodging.  And  this,  I  am 
afraid,  was  the  reason  why  the  villagers  had  allowed  their 
children  and  dogs  to  treat  them  so  rudely. 

*  Come,  wife/  said  Philemon  to  Baucis,  *  let  us  go  and 
meet  these  poor  people.    No  doubt,  they  feel  almost  too 
heavy-hearted  to  climb  the  hill.' 

*  Go  you  and  meet  them,'  answered  Baucis,  *  while  I 
make  haste  within  doors,  and  see  whether  we  can  get  them 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

anything  for  supper.    A  comfortable  bowl  of  bread  and 
milk  would  do  wonders  towards  raising  their  spirits.' 

Accordingly,  she  hastened  into  the  cottage.  Philemon, 
on  his  part,  went  forward,  and  extended  his  hand  with  so 
hospitable  an  aspect  that  there  was  no  need  of  saying  what 
nevertheless  he  did  say,  in  the  heartiest  tone  imaginable, — 

*  Welcome,  strangers  !   welcome  ! ' 

1  Thank  you  ! '  replied  the  younger  of  the  two,  in  a 
lively  kind  of  way,  notwithstanding  his  weariness  and 
trouble.  *  This  is  quite  another  greeting  than  we  have 
met  with  yonder  in  the  village.  Pray,  why  do  you  live  in 
such  a  bad  neighbourhood  ? ' 

'  Ah  !  '  observed  old  Philemon,  with  a  quiet  and  benign 
smile,  *  Providence  put  me  here,  I  hope,  among  other 
reasons,  in  order  that  I  may  make  you  what  amends  I  can 
for  the  inhospitality  of  my  neighbours/ 

*  Well  said,  old  father  ! '  cried  the  traveller,  laughing ; 
*  and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  my  companion  and  myself 
need  some  amends.    Those  children  (the  little  rascals  !) 
have  bespattered  us  finely  with  their  mud-ball ;   and  one 
of  the  curs  has  torn  my  cloak,  which  was  ragged  enough 
already.    But  I  took  him  across  the  muzzle  with  my  staff  ; 
and  I  think  you  may  have  heard  him  yelp,  even  thus  far  off.' 

Philemon  was  glad  to  see  him  in  such  good  spirits  ; 
nor,  indeed,  would  you  have  fancied,  by  the  traveller's 
look  and  manner,  that  he  was  weary  with  a  long  day's 
journey,  besides  being  disheartened  by  rough  treatment  at 
the  end  of  it.  He  was  dressed  in  rather  an  odd  way,  with 
a  sort  of  cap  on  his  head,  the  brim  of  which  stuck  out  over 
both  ears.  Though  it  was  a  summer  evening,  he  wore  a 
cloak,  which  he  kept  wrapt  closely  about  him,  perhaps 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

because  his  under  garments  were  shabby.  Philemon 
perceived,  too,  that  he  had  on  a  singular  pair  of  shoes  ; 
but,  as  it  was  now  growing  dusk,  and  as  the  old  man's  eye- 
sight was  none  the  sharpest,  he  could  not  precisely  tell  in 
what  the  strangeness  consisted.  One  thing  certainly 
seemed  queer.  The  traveller  was  so  wonderfully  light  and 
active,  that  it  appeared  as  if  his  feet  sometimes  rose  from 
the  ground  of  their  own  accord,  or  could  only  be  kept 
down  by  an  effort. 

*  I  used  to  be  light-footed,  in  my  youth,'  said  Philemon 
to   the   traveller.    *  But   I   always   found  my  feet  grow 
heavier  towards  nightfall.' 

*  There  is  nothing  like  a  good  staff  to  help  one  along/ 
answered  the  stranger  ;  *  and  I  happen  to  have  an  excellent 
one,  as  you  see.' 

This  staff,  in  fact,  was  the  oddest-looking  staff  that 
Philemon  had  ever  beheld.  It  was  made  of  olive-wood, 
and  had  something  like  a  little  pair  of  wings  near  the  top. 
Two  snakes,  carved  in  the  wood,  were  represented  as 
twining  themselves  about  the  staff,  and  were  so  very 
skilfully  executed  that  old  Philemon  (whose  eyes,  you 
know,  were  getting  rather  dim)  almost  thought  them  alive, 
and  that  he  could  see  them  wriggling  and  twisting. 

*  A  curious  piece  of  work,  sure  enough  ! '  said  he.    *  A 
staff  with  wings  !    It  would  be  an  excellent  kind  of  stick 
for  a  little  boy  to  ride  astride  of  ! ' 

By  this  time,  Philemon  and  his  two  guests  had  reached 
the  cottage  door. 

*  Friends,'  said  the  old  man,  c  sit  down  and  rest  your- 
selves here  on  this  bench.    My  good  wife  Baucis  has  gone 
to  see  what  you  can  have  for  supper.    We  are  poor  folks  ; 

149 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

but  you  shall  be  welcome  to  whatever  we  have  in  the 
cupboard.' 

The  younger  stranger  threw  himself  carelessly  on  the 
bench,  letting  his  staff  fall,  as  he  did  so.  And  here 
happened  something  rather  marvellous,  though  trifling 
enough,  too.  The  staff  seemed  to  get  up  from  the  ground 
of  its  own  accord,  and,  spreading  its  little  pair  of  wings,  it 
half  hopped,  half  flew,  and  leaned  itself  against  the  wall 
of  the  cottage.  There  it  stood  quite  still,  except  that  the 
snakes  continued  to  wriggle.  But,  in  my  private  opinion, 
old  Philemon's  eyesight  had  been  playing  him  tricks  again. 

Before  he  could  ask  any  questions,  the  elder  stranger 
drew  his  attention  from  the  wonderful  staff,  by  speaking 
to  him. 

'  Was  there  not,'  asked  the  stranger,  in  a  remarkably 
deep  tone  of  voice,  *  a  lake,  in  very  ancient  times,  covering 
the  spot  where  now  stands  yonder  village  ?  ' 

'  Not  in  my  day,  friend,'  answered  Philemon  ;  '  and 
yet  I  am  an  old  man,  as  you  see.  There  were  always  the 
fields  and  meadows,  just  as  they  are  now,  and  the  old  trees, 
and  the  little  stream  murmuring  through  the  midst  of  the 
valley.  My  father,  nor  his  father  before  him,  ever  saw  it 
otherwise,  so  far  as  I  know  :  and  doubtless  it  will  still  be 
the  same,  when  old  Philemon  shall  be  gone  and  forgotten  ! ' 

'  That  is  more  than  can  be  safely  foretold,'  observed 
the  stranger  ;  and  there  was  something  very  stern  in  his 
deep  voice.  He  shook  his  head,  too,  so  that  his  dark  and 
heavy  curls  were  shaken  with  the  movement.  *  Since  the 
inhabitants  of  yonder  village  have  forgotten  the  affections 
and  sympathies  of  their  nature,  it  were  better  that  the  lake 
should  be  rippling  over  their  dwellings  again  ! ' 

150 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

The  traveller  looked  so  stern,  that  Philemon  was  really 
almost  frightened  ;  the  more  so,  that,  at  his  frown,  the 
twilight  seemed  suddenly  to  grow  darker,  and  that,  when 
he  shook  his  head,  there  was  a  roll  as  of  thunder  in 
the  air. 

But,  in  a  moment  afterwards,  the  stranger's  face 
became  so  kindly  and  mild,  that  the  old  man  quite  forgot 
his  terror.  Nevertheless,  he  could  not  help  feeling  that 
this  elder  traveller  must  be  no  ordinary  personage,  although 
he  happened  now  to  be  attired  so  humbly  and  to  be 
journeying  on  foot.  Not  that  Philemon  fancied  him  a 
prince  in  disguise,  or  any  character  of  that  sort ;  but  rather 
some  exceedingly  wise  man,  who  went  about  the  world  in 
this  poor  garb,  despising  wealth  and  all  worldly  objects, 
and  seeking  everywhere  to  add  a  mite  to  his  wisdom. 
This  idea  appeared  the  more  probable,  because,  when 
Philemon  raised  his  eyes  to  the  stranger's  face,  he  seemed 
to  see  more  thought  there,  in  one  look,  than  he  could  have 
studied  out  in  a  lifetime. 

While  Baucis  was  getting  the  supper,  the  travellers 
both  began  to  talk  very  sociably  with  Philemon.  The 
younger,  indeed,  was  extremely  loquacious,  and  made  such 
shrewd  and  witty  remarks,  that  the  good  old  man  continually 
burst  out  a-laughing,  and  pronounced  him  the  merriest 
fellow  whom  he  had  seen  for  many  a  day. 

'  Pray,  my  young  friend,'  said  he,  as  they  grew  familiar 
together, '  what  may  I  call  your  name  ? ' 

*  Why,  I  am  very  nimble,  as  you  see,'  answered  the 
traveller.    *  So,  if  you  call  me  Quicksilver,  the  name  will 
fit  tolerably  well.' 

*  Quicksilver  ?  Quicksilver  ?  *  repeated  Philemon,  look- 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

ing  in  the  traveller's  face,  to  see  if  he  were  making  fun  of 
him.  *  It  is  a  very  odd  name  !  And  your  companion 
there  ?  Has  he  as  strange  a  one  ? ' 

*  You  must  ask  the  thunder  to  tell  it  you  ! '  replied 
Quicksilver,  putting  on  a  mysterious  look.  *  No  other  voice 
is  loud  enough.' 

This  remark,  whether  it  were  serious  or  in  jest,  might 
have  caused  Philemon  to  conceive  a  very  great  awe  of  the 
elder  stranger,  if,  on  venturing  to  gaze  at  him,  he  had  not 
beheld  so  much  beneficence  in  his  visage.  But,  undoubtedly 
here  was  the  grandest  figure  that  ever  sat  so  humbly  beside 
a  cottage  door.  When  the  stranger  conversed,  it  was  with 
gravity,  and  in  such  a  way  that  Philemon  felt  irresistibly 
moved  to  tell  him  everything  which  he  had  most  at  heart. 
This  is  always  the  feeling  that  people  have,  when  they  meet 
with  any  one  wise  enough  to  comprehend  all  their  good 
and  evil,  and  to  despise  not  a  tittle  of  it. 

But  Philemon,  simple  and  kind-hearted  old  man  that 
he  was,  had  not  many  secrets  to  disclose.  He  talked, 
however,  quite  garrulously,  about  the  events  of  his  past 
life,  in  the  whole  course  of  which  he  had  never  been  a 
score  of  miles  from  this  very  spot.  His  wife  Baucis  and 
himself  had  dwelt  in  the  cottage  from  their  youth  upward, 
earning  their  bread  by  honest  labour,  always  poor,  but  still 
contented.  He  told  what  excellent  butter  and  cheese 
Baucis  made,  and  how  nice  were  the  vegetables  which  he 
raised  in  his  garden.  He  said,  too,  that,  because  they 
loved  one  another  so  very  much,  it  was  the  wish  of  both  that 
death  might  not  separate  them,  but  that  they  should  die, 
as  they  had  lived,  together. 

As  the  stranger  listened,  a  smile  beamed  over  his 

152 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

V 

countenance,  and  made  its  expression  as  sweet  as  it  was 
grand. 

1  You  are  a  good  old  man/  said  he  to  Philemon,  '  and 
you  have  a  good  old  wife  to  be  your  helpmeet.  It  is  fit 
that  your  wish  be  granted.' 

And  it  seemed  to  Philemon,  just  then,  as  if  the  sunset 
clouds  threw  up  a  bright  flash  from  the  west,  and  kindled 
a  sudden  light  in  the  sky. 

Baucis  had  now  got  supper  ready,  and,  coming  to  the 
door,  began  to  make  apologies  for  the  poor  fare  which  she 
was  forced  to  set  before  her  guests. 

*  Had  we  known  you  were  coming/  said  she,  *  my  good 
man  and  myself  would  have  gone  without  a  morsel,  rather 
than  you  should  lack  a  better  supper.    But  I  took  the  most 
part  of  to-day's  milk  to  make  cheese  ;  and  our  last  loaf  is 
already  half  eaten.    Ah  me  !    I  never  feel  the  sorrow  of 
being  poor,  save  when  a  poor  traveller  knocks  at  our 
door.' 

'  All  will  be  very  well ;  do  not  trouble  yourself,  my 
good  dame/  replied  the  elder  stranger  kindly.  '  An 
honest,  hearty  welcome  to  a  guest  works  miracles  with  the 
fare,  and  is  capable  of  turning  the  coarsest  food  to  nectar 
and  ambrosia/ 

*  A  welcome  you  shall  have/  cried  Baucis, '  and  likewise 
a  little  honey  that  we  happen  to  have  left,  and  a  bunch  of 
purple  grapes  besides/ 

*  Why,   Mother   Baucis,   it   is   a   feast ! '      exclaimed 
Quicksilver,  laughing,  *  an  absolute  feast !    and  you  shall 
see  how  bravely  I  will  play  my  part  at  it !    I  think  I  never 
felt  hungrier  in  my  life/ 

*  Mercy  on  us  ! '    whispered  Baucis  to  her  husband. 
u  153 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

'  If  the  young  man  has  such  a  terrible  appetite,  I  am  afraid 
there  will  not  be  half  enough  supper  ! ' 

They  all  went  into  the  cottage. 

And  now,  my  little  auditors,  shall  I  tell  you  something 
that  will  make  you  open  your  eyes  very  wide  ?  It  is  really 
one  of  the  oddest  circumstances  in  the  whole  story.  Quick- 
silver's staff,  you  recollect,  had  set  itself  up  against  the  wall 
of  the  cottage.  Well ;  when  its  master  entered  the  door, 
leaving  this  wonderful  staff  behind,  what  should  it  do  but 
immediately  spread  its  little  wings,  and  go  hopping  and 
fluttering  up  the  door  steps  !  Tap,  tap,  went  the  staff, 
on  the  kitchen  floor ;  nor  did  it  rest  until  it  had  stood 
itself  on  end,  with  the  greatest  gravity  and  decorum,  beside 
Quicksilver's  chair.  Old  Philemon,  however,  as  well  as 
his  wife,  was  so  taken  up  in  attending  to  their  guests,  that 
no  notice  was  given  to  what  the  staff  had  been  about. 

As  Baucis  had  said,  there  was  but  a  scanty  supper  for 
two  hungry  travellers.  In  the  middle  of  the  table  was  the 
remnant  of  a  brown  loaf,  with  a  piece  of  cheese  on  one  side 
of  it,  and  a  dish  of  honeycomb  on  the  other.  There  was  a 
pretty  good  bunch  of  grapes  for  each  of  the  guests.  A 
moderately  sized  earthen  pitcher,  nearly  full  of  milk,  stood 
at  a  corner  of  the  board  ;  and  when  Baucis  had  filled  two 
bowls,  and  set  them  before  the  strangers,  only  a  little  milk 
remained  in  the  bottom  of  the  pitcher.  Alas  !  it  is  a  very 
sad  business,  when  a  bountiful  heart  finds  itself  pinched 
and  squeezed  among  narrow  circumstances.  Poor  Baucis 
kept  wishing  that  she  might  starve  for  a  week  to  come, 
if  it  were  possible,  by  so  doing,  to  provide  these  hungry 
folks  a  more  plentiful  supper. 

And,  since  the  supper  was  so  exceedingly  small,  she 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

could  not  help  wishing  that  their  appetites  had  not  been 
quite  so  large.  Why,  at  their  very  first  sitting  down,  the 
travellers  both  drank  off  all  the  milk  in  their  two  bowls, 
at  a  draught. 

'  A  little  more  milk,  kind  Mother  Baucis,  if  you  please/ 
said  Quicksilver.  *  The  day  has  been  hot,  and  I  am  very 
much  athirst.' 

*  Now,  my  dear  people,'  answered  Baucis,  in  great 
confusion,  *  I  am  so  sorry  and  ashamed  !    But  the  truth  is, 
there  is  hardly  a  drop  more  milk  in  the  pitcher.     O 
husband !    husband  !    why   didn't   we   go   without   our 
supper  ? ' 

*  Why  it  appears  to  me/  cried  Quicksilver,  starting  up 
from  table  and  taking  the  pitcher  by  the  handle,  *  it  really 
appears  to  me  that  matters  are  not  quite  so  bad  as  you 
represent   them.    Here   is   certainly   more   milk   in   the 
pitcher.' 

So  saying,  and  to  the  vast  astonishment  of  Baucis,  he 
proceeded  to  fill,  not  only  his  own  bowl,  but  his  companion's 
likewise,  from  the  pitcher,  that  was  supposed  to  be  almost 
empty.  The  good  woman  could  scarcely  believe  her  eyes. 
She  had  certainly  poured  out  nearly  all  the  milk,  and  had 
peeped  in  afterwards,  and  seen  the  bottom  of  the  pitcher, 
as  she  set  it  down  upon  the  table. 

'  But  I  am  old,'  thought  Baucis  to  herself,  '  and  apt  to 
be  forgetful.  I  suppose  I  must  have  made  a  mistake. 
At  all  events,  the  pitcher  cannot  help  being  empty  now, 
after  filling  the  bowls  twice  over.' 

*  What  excellent  milk  ! '    observed  Quicksilver,  after 
quaffing  the  contents  of  the  second  bowl.    '  Excuse  me, 
my  kind  hostess,  but  I  must  really  ask  you  for  a  little  more.' 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

Now  Baucis  had  seen,  as  plainly  as  she  could  see  any- 
thing, that  Quicksilver  had  turned  the  pitcher  upside  down, 
and  consequently  had  poured  out  every  drop  of  milk,  in 
filling  the  last  bowl.  Of  course,  there  could  not  possibly 
be  any  left.  However,  in  order  to  let  him  know  precisely 
how  the  case  was,  she  lifted  the  pitcher,  and  made  a  gesture 
as  if  pouring  milk  into  Quicksilver's  bowl,  but  without  the 
remotest  idea  that  any  milk  would  stream  forth.  What 
was  her  surprise,  therefore,  when  such  an  abundant  cascade 
fell  bubbling  into  the  bowl,  that  it  was  immediately  filled 
to  the  brim,  and  overflowed  upon  the  table  !  The  two 
snakes  that  were  twisted  about  Quicksilver's  staff  (but 
neither  Baucis  nor  Philemon  happened  to  observe  this 
circumstance)  stretched  out  their  heads,  and  began  to 
lap  up  the  spilt  milk. 

And  then  what  a  delicious  fragrance  the  milk  had  ! 
It  seemed  as  if  Philemon's  only  cow  must  have  pastured, 
that  day,  on  the  richest  herbage  that  could  be  found 
anywhere  in  the  world.  I  only  wish  that  each  of  you, 
my  beloved  little  souls,  could  have  a  bowl  of  such  nice 
milk,  at  supper-time  ! 

'  And  now  a  slice  of  your  brown  loaf,  Mother  Baucis,' 
said  Quicksilver,  *  and  a  little  of  that  honey  ! ' 

Baucis  cut  him  a  slice,  accordingly  ;  and  though  the 
loaf,  when  she  and  her  husband  ate  of  it,  had  been  rather 
too  dry  and  crusty  to  be  palatable,  it  was  now  as  light  and 
moist  as  if  but  a  few  hours  out  of  the  oven.  Tasting  a 
crumb,  which  had  fallen  on  the  table,  she  found  it  more 
delicious  than  bread  ever  was  before,  and  could  hardly 
believe  that  it  was  a  loaf  of  her  own  kneading  and  baking. 
Yet,  what  other  loaf  could  it  possibly  be  ? 

156 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

But,  oh  the  honey  !  I  may  just  as  well  let  it  alone, 
without  trying  to  describe  how  exquisitely  it  smelt  and 
looked.  Its  colour  was  that  of  the  purest  and  most 
transparent  gold  ;  and  it  had  the  odour  of  a  thousand 
flowers ;  but  of  such  flowers  as  never  grew  in  an  earthly 
garden,  and  to  seek  which  the  bees  must  have  flown  high 
above  the  clouds.  The  wonder  is,  that  after  alighting  on  a 
flower-bed  of  so  delicious  fragrance  and  immortal  bloom, 
they  should  have  been  content  to  fly  down  again  to  their 
hive  in  Philemon's  garden.  Never  was  such  honey  tasted, 
seen,  or  smelt.  The  perfume  floated  around  the  kitchen, 
and  made  it  so  delightful,  that,  had  you  closed  your  eyes, 
you  would  instantly  have  forgotten  the  low  ceiling  and 
smoky  walls,  and  have  fancied  yourself  in  an  arbour,  with 
celestial  honeysuckles  creeping  over  it. 

Although  good  Mother  Baucis  was  a  simple  old  dame, 
she  could  not  but  think  that  there  was  something  rather 
out  of  the  common  way,  in  all  that  had  been  going  on. 
So,  after  helping  the  guests  to  bread  and  honey,  and  laying 
a  bunch  of  grapes  by  each  of  their  plates,  she  sat  down  by 
Philemon,  and  told  him  what  she  had  seen,  in  a  whisper. 

*  Did  you  ever  hear  the  like  ?  '  asked  she. 

*  No,  I  never  did/  answered  Philemon,  with  a  smile. 
'  And  I  rather  think,  my  dear  old  wife,  you  have  been 
walking  about  in  a  sort  of  a  dream.    If  I  had  poured  out 
the  milk,  I  should  have  seen  through  the  business  at  once. 
There  happened  to  be  a  little  more  in  the  pitcher  than  you 
thought, — that  is  all.' 

*  Ah,  husband,'  said  Baucis,  '  say  what  you  will,  these 
are  very  uncommon  people.' 

*  Well,  well,'  replied  Philemon,  still  smiling,  '  perhaps 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

they  are.  They  certainly  do  look  as  if  they  had  seen  better 
days  ;  and  I  am  heartily  glad  to  see  them  making  so 
comfortable  a  supper.' 

Each  of  the  guests  had  now  taken  his  bunch  of  grapes 
upon  his  plate.  Baucis  (who  rubbed  her  eyes,  in  order 
to  see  the  more  clearly)  was  of  opinion  that  the  clusters  had 
grown  larger  and  richer,  and  that  each  separate  grape 
seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  bursting  with  ripe  juice. 
It  was  entirely  a  mystery  to  her  how  such  grapes  could  ever 
have  been  produced  from  the  old  stunted  vine  that  climbed 
against  the  cottage  wall. 

'  Very  admirable  grapes  these  !  '  observed  Quicksilver, 
as  he  swallowed  one  after  another,  without  apparently 
diminishing  his  cluster.  *  Pray,  my  good  host,  whence 
did  you  gather  them  ?  ' 

'  From  my  own  vine,'  answered  Philemon.  '  You 
may  see  one  of  its  branches  twisting  across  the  window, 
yonder.  But  wife  and  I  never  thought  the  grapes  very 
fine  ones.' 

*  I  never  tasted  better,'  said  the  guest.  '  Another  cup 
of  this  delicious  milk,  if  you  please,  and  I  shall  then  have 
supped  better  than  a  prince.' 

This  time,  old  Philemon  bestirred  himself,  and  took 
up  the  pitcher  ;  for  he  was  curious  to  discover  whether 
there  was  any  reality  in  the  marvels  which  Baucis  had 
whispered  to  him.  He  knew  that  his  good  old  wife  was 
incapable  of  falsehood,  and  that  she  was  seldom  mistaken 
in  what  she  supposed  to  be  true  ;  but  this  was  so  very 
singular  a  case,  that  he  wanted  to  see  into  it  with  his  own 
eyes.  On  taking  up  the  pitcher,  therefore,  he  slyly  peeped 
into  it,  and  was  fully  satisfied  that  it  contained  not  so  much 

158 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

as  a  single  drop.  All  at  once,  however,  he  beheld  a  little 
white  fountain,  which  gushed  up  from  the  bottom  of  the 
pitcher,  and  speedily  filled  it  to  the  brim  with  foaming  and 
deliciously  fragrant  milk.  It  was  lucky  that  Philemon,  in  his 
surprise,  did  not  drop  the  miraculous  pitcher  from  his  hand. 

*  Who  are  ye,  wonder-working  strangers  ! '    cried  he, 
even  more  bewildered  than  his  wife  had  been. 

*  Your  guests,  my  good  Philemon,  and  your  friends/ 
replied  the  elder  traveller,  in  his  mild,  deep  voice,  that 
had  something  at  once  sweet  and  awe-inspiring  in  it. 
'  Give  me  likewise  a  cup  of  the  milk  ;    and  may  your 
pitcher  never  be  emptied  for  kind  Baucis  and  yourself, 
any  more  than  for  the  needy  wayfarer  ! ' 

The  supper  being  now  over,  the  strangers  requested 
to  be  shown  to  their  place  of  repose.  The  old  people 
would  gladly  have  talked  with  them  a  little  longer,  and 
have  expressed  the  wonder  which  they  felt,  and  their 
delight  at  rinding  the  poor  and  meagre  supper  prove  so 
much  better  and  more  abundant  than  they  hoped.  But 
the  elder  traveller  had  inspired  them  with  such  reverence, 
that  they  dared  not  ask  him  any  questions.  And  when 
Philemon  drew  Quicksilver  aside  and  inquired  how  under 
the  sun  a  fountain  of  milk  could  have  got  into  an  old  earthen 
pitcher,  this  latter  personage  pointed  to  his  staff. 

'  There  is  the  whole  mystery  of  the  affair,'  quoth 
Quicksilver  ;  '  and  if  you  can  make  it  out,  I  '11  thank  you 
to  let  me  know.  I  can't  tell  what  to  make  of  my  staff.  It 
is  always  playing  such  odd  tricks  as  this  ;  sometimes  getting 
me  a  supper,  and,  quite  as  often,  stealing  it  away.  If  I 
had  any  faith  in  such  nonsense,  I  should  say  the  stick  was 
bewitched  ! ' 

'59 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

He  said  no  more,  but  looked  so  slyly  in  their  faces, 
that  they  rather  fancied  he  was  laughing  at  them.  The 
magic  staff  went  hopping  at  his  heels,  as  Quicksilver 
quitted  the  room.  When  left  alone,  the  good  old  couple 
spent  some  little  time  in  conversation  about  the  events 
of  the  evening,  and  then  lay  down  on  the  floor,  and  fell 
fast  asleep.  They  had  given  up  their  sleeping-room  to 
the  guests,  and  had  no  other  bed  for  themselves,  save  these 
planks,  which  I  wish  had  been  as  soft  as  their  own  hearts. 

The  old  man  and  his  wife  were  stirring,  betimes,  in 
the  morning,  and  the  strangers  likewise  arose  with  the 
sun,  and  made  their  preparations  to  depart.  Philemon 
hospitably  entreated  them  to  remain  a  little  longer,  until 
Baucis  could  milk  the  cow,  and  bake  a  cake  upon  the  hearth, 
and,  perhaps,  find  them  a  few  fresh  eggs,  for  breakfast. 
The  guests,  however,  seemed  to  think  it  better  to  accom- 
plish a  good  part  of  their  journey  before  the  heat  of  the  day 
should  come  on.  They,  therefore,  persisted  in  setting  out 
immediately,  but  asked  Philemon  and  Baucis  to  walk  forth 
with  them  a  short  distance,  and  show  them  the  road  which 
they  were  to  take. 

So  they  all  four  issued  from  the  cottage,  chatting 
together  like  old  friends.  It  was  very  remarkable,  indeed, 
how  familiar  the  old  couple  insensibly  grew  with  the 
elder  traveller,  and  how  their  good  and  simple  spirits 
melted  into  his,  even  as  two  drops  of  water  would  melt 
into  the  illimitable  ocean.  And  as  for  Quicksilver,  with 
his  keen,  quick,  laughing  wits,  he  appeared  to  discover  every 
little  thought  that  but  peeped  into  their  minds,  before  they 
suspected  it  themselves.  They  sometimes  wished,  it  is 
true,  that  he  had  not  been  quite  so  quick-witted,  and  also 

1 60 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

that  he  would  fling  away  his  staff,  which  looked  so  mys- 
teriously mischievous,  with  the  snakes  always  writhing  about 
it.  But  then,  again,  Quicksilver  showed  himself  so  very 
good-humoured,  that  they  would  have  been  rejoiced  to 
keep  him  in  their  cottage,  staff,  snakes,  and  all,  every  day, 
and  the  whole  day  long. 

*  Ah  me  !    Well-a-day  ! '    exclaimed  Philemon,  when 
they  had  walked  a  little  way  from  their  door.     *  If  our 
neighbours  only  knew  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to  show 
hospitality  to  strangers,  they  would  tie  up  all  their  dogs, 
and  never  allow  their  children  to  fling  another  stone/ 

(  It  is  a  sin  and  shame  for  them  to  behave  so, — that  it 
is  ! '  cried  good  old  Baucis  vehemently.  *  And  I  mean 
to  go  this  very  day,  and  tell  some  of  them  what  naughty 
people  they  are  ! ' 

*  I   fear/   remarked   Quicksilver,  slyly  smiling,  *  that 
you  will  find  none  of  them  at  home.' 

The  elder  traveller's  brow,  just  then,  assumed  such  a 
grave,  stern,  and  awful  grandeur,  yet  serene  withal,  that 
neither  Baucis  nor  Philemon  dared  to  speak  a  word.  They 
gazed  reverently  into  his  face,  as  if  they  had  been  gazing 
at  the  sky. 

*  When  men  do  not  feel  towards  the  humblest  stranger 
as  if  he  were  a  brother/  said  the  traveller,  in  tones  so  deep 
that  they  sounded  like  those  of  an  organ,  *  they  are  un- 
worthy to  exist  on  earth,  which  was  created  as  the  abode 
of  a  great  human  brotherhood  ! ' 

*  And,  by  the  by,  my  dear  old  people/  cried  Quicksilver, 
with  the  liveliest  look  of  fun  and  mischief  in  his  eyes, 
*  where  is  this  same  village  that  you  talk  about  ?    On  which 
side  of  us  does  it  lie  ?    Methinks  I  do  not  see  it  hereabouts/ 

x  161 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

Philemon  and  his  wife  turned  towards  the  valley,  where, 
at  sunset,  only  the  day  before,  they  had  seen  the  meadows, 
the  houses,  the  gardens,  the  clumps  of  trees,  the  wide, 
green-margined  street,  with  children  playing  in  it,  and  all 
the  tokens  of  business,  enjoyment,  and  prosperity.  But 
what  was  their  astonishment !  There  was  no  longer  any 
appearance  of  a  village  !  Even  the  fertile  vale,  in  the 
hollow  of  which  it  lay,  had  ceased  to  have  existence.  In 
its  stead,  they  beheld  the  broad,  blue  surface  of  a  lake, 
which  filled  the  great  basin  of  the  valley  from  brim  to  brim, 
and  reflected  the  surrounding  hills  in  its  bosom  with  as 
tranquil  an  image  as  if  it  had  been  there  ever  since  the 
creation  of  the  world.  For  an  instant,  the  lake  remained 
perfectly  smooth.  Then,  a  little  breeze  sprang  up,  and 
caused  the  water  to  dance,  glitter,  and  sparkle  in  the  early 
sunbeams,  and  to  dash,  with  a  pleasant  rippling  murmur, 
against  the  hither  shore. 

The  lake  seemed  so  strangely  familiar,  that  the  old 
couple  were  greatly  perplexed,  and  felt  as  if  they  could 
only  have  been  dreaming  about  a  village  having  lain  there. 
But,  the  next  moment,  they  remembered  the  vanished 
dwellings,  and  the  faces  and  characters  of  the  inhabitants, 
far  too  distinctly  for  a  dream.  The  village  had  been  there 
yesterday,  and  now  was  gone  ! 

'  Alas  1 '  cried  these  kind-hearted  old  people,  '  what 
has  become  of  our  poor  neighbours  ? ' 

c  They  exist  no  longer  as  men  and  women,'  said  the 
elder  traveller,  in  his  grand  and  deep  voice,  while  a  roll 
of  thunder  seemed  to  echo  it  at  a  distance.  *  There  was 
neither  use  nor  beauty  in  such  a  life  as  theirs  ;  for  they 
never  softened  or  sweetened  the  hard  lot  of  mortality  by 

162 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

the  exercise  of  kindly  affections  between  man  and  man. 
They  retained  no  image  of  the  better  life  in  their  bosoms  ; 
therefore,  the  lake,  that  was  of  old,  has  spread  itself  forth 
again,  to  reflect  the  sky  ! ' 

'  And  as  for  those  foolish  people,'  said  Quicksilver, 
with  his  mischievous  smile,  *  they  are  all  transformed  to 
fishes.  There  needed  but  little  change,  for  they  were 
already  a  scaly  set  of  rascals,  and  the  coldest-blooded 
beings  in  existence.  So,  kind  Mother  Baucis,  whenever 
you  or  your  husband  have  an  appetite  for  a  dish  of  broiled 
trout,  he  can  throw  in  a  line,  and  pull  out  half  a  dozen  of 
your  old  neighbours  ! ' 

'  Ah,'  cried  Baucis,  shuddering,  '  I  would  not,  for  the 
world,  put  one  of  them  on  the  gridiron  ! ' 

1  No,'  added  Philemon,  making  a  wry  face,  '  we  could 
never  relish  them  ! ' 

*  As  for  you,  good  Philemon,'  continued  the  elder 
traveller, — *  and  you,  kind  Baucis, — you,  with  your  scanty 
means, — have  mingled  so  much  heartfelt  hospitality  with 
your  entertainment  of  the   homeless   stranger,  that  the 
milk  became  an  inexhaustible  fount  of  nectar,  and  the 
brown  loaf  and   the   honey  were   ambrosia.    Thus,   the 
divinities    have    feasted,    at    your    board,    of   the    same 
viands  that  supply  their    banquets  on  Olympus.     You 
have  done  well,  my  dear  old  friends.    Wherefore,  request 
whatever    favour    you    have    most    at    heart,  and    it    is 
granted.' 

Philemon  and  Baucis  looked  at  one  another,  and  then, — 
I  know  not  which  of  the  two  it  was  who  spoke,  but  that 
one  uttered  the  desire  of  both  their  hearts. 

*  Let  us  live  together,  while  we  live,  and  leave  the 

163 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

world  at  the  same  instant,  when  we  die  !  For  we  have 
always  loved  one  another  ! ' 

'  Be  it  so  ! '  replied  the  stranger,  with  majestic  kind- 
ness. *  Now,  look  towards  your  cottage  ! ' 

They  did  so.  But  what  was  their  surprise  on  beholding 
a  tall  edifice  of  white  marble,  with  a  wide-open  portal, 
occupying  the  spot  where  their  humble  residence  had  so 
lately  stood  ! 

'  There  is  your  home/  said  the  stranger,  beneficently 
smiling  on  them  both.  *  Exercise  your  hospitality  in 
yonder  palace  as  freely  as  in  the  poor  hovel  to  which  you 
welcomed  us  last  evening.' 

The  old  folks  fell  on  their  knees  to  thank  him  ;  but, 
behold  !  neither  he  nor  Quicksilver  was  there. 

So  Philemon  and  Baucis  took  up  their  residence  in 
the  marble  palace,  and  spent  their  time  with  vast  satis- 
faction to  themselves,  in  making  everybody  jolly  and 
comfortable  who  happened  to  pass  that  way.  The  milk- 
pitcher,  I  must  not  forget  to  say,  retained  its  marvellous 
quality  of  being  never  empty,  when  it  was  desirable  to  have 
it  full.  Whenever  an  honest,  good-humoured,  and  free- 
hearted guest  took  a  draught  from  this  pitcher,  he  in- 
variably found  it  the  sweetest  and  most  invigorating  fluid 
that  ever  ran  down  his  throat.  But,  if  a  cross  and  dis- 
agreeable curmudgeon  happened  to  sip,  he  was  pretty 
certain  to  twist  his  visage  into  a  hard  knot,  and  pronounce 
it  a  pitcher  of  sour  milk  ! 

Thus  the  old  couple  lived  in  their  palace  a  great,  great 
while,  and  grew  older  and  older,  and  very  old  indeed. 
At  length,  however,  there  came  a  summer  morning  when 
Philemon  and  Baucis  failed  to  make  their  appearance,  as 

164 


A  scaly  set  of  rascals 


THE  MIRACULOUS  PITCHER 

on  other  mornings,  with  one  hospitable  smile  overspreading 
both  their  pleasant  faces,  to  invite  the  guests  of  over-night 
to  breakfast.  The  guests  searched  everywhere,  from  top 
to  bottom  of  the  spacious  palace,  and  all  to  no  purpose. 
But,  after  a  great  deal  of  perplexity,  they  espied,  in  front 
of  the  portal,  two  venerable  trees,  which  nobody  could 
remember  to  have  seen  there  the  day  before.  Yet,  there 
they  stood,  with  their  roots  fastened  deep  into  the  soil, 
and  a  huge  breadth  of  foliage  overshadowing  the  whole 
front  of  the  edifice.  One  was  an  oak,  and  the  other  a  linden- 
tree.  Their  boughs — it  was  strange  and  beautiful  to  see — 
were  intertwined  together,  and  embraced  one  another,  so 
that  each  tree  seemed  to  live  in  the  other  tree's  bosom  much 
more  than  in  its  own. 

While  the  guests  were  marvelling  how  these  trees, 
that  must  have  required  at  least  a  century  to  grow,  could 
have  come  to  be  so  tall  and  venerable  in  a  single  night, 
a  breeze  sprang  up,  and  set  their  intermingled  boughs  astir. 
And  then  there  was  a  deep,  broad  murmur  in  the  air,  as 
if  the  two  mysterious  trees  were  speaking. 

'  I  am  old  Philemon  !  '  murmured  the  oak. 

*  I  am  old  Baucis  !  '  murmured  the  linden-tree. 

But,  as  the  breeze  grew  stronger,  the  trees  both  spoke 
at  once,—'  Philemon  !  Baucis  !  Baucis  !  Philemon  !  '— 
as  if  one  were  both  and  both  were  one,  and  talking  together 
in  the  depths  of  their  mutual  heart.  It  was  plain  enough 
to  perceive  that  the  good  old  couple  had  renewed  their  age, 
and  were  now  to  spend  a  quiet  and  delightful  hundred 
years  or  so,  Philemon  as  an  oak,  and  Baucis  as  a  linden- 
tree.  And  oh,  what  a  hospitable  shade  did  they  fling 
around  them.  Whenever  a  wayfarer  passed  beneath  it,  he 

165 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

heard  a  pleasant  whisper  of  the  leaves  above  his  head, 
and  wondered  how  the  sound  should  so  much  resemble 
words  like  these  : — 

'  Welcome,  welcome,  dear  traveller,  welcome  ! ' 
And  some  kind  soul,  that  knew  what  would  have 
pleased  old  Baucis  and  old  Philemon  best,  built  a  circular 
seat  around  both  their  trunks,  where,  for  a  great  while 
afterwards,  the  weary,  and  the  hungry,  and  the  thirsty 
used  to  repose  themselves,  and  quaff  milk  abundantly  out 
of  the  miraculous  pitcher. 

And  I  wish,  for  all  our  sakes,  that  we  had  the  pitcher 
here  now  1 


166 


THE   HILL-SIDE 

AFTER  THE  STORY 


H 


OW  much  did  the  pitcher  hold  ? '  asked  Sweet 
Fern. 

'  It  did  not  hold  quite  a  quart,'  answered  the 
student ;  '  but  you  might  keep  pouring  milk  out  of  it,  till 
you  should  fill  a  hogshead,  if  you  pleased.  The  truth  is, 
it  would  run  on  for  ever,  and  not  be  dry  even  at  midsummer, 
— which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  yonder  rill,  that  goes 
babbling  down  the  hill-side/ 

'  And  what  has  become  of  the  pitcher  now  ? '  inquired 
the  little  boy. 

'  It  was  broken,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  about  twenty-five 
thousand  years  ago,'  replied  Cousin  Eustace.  '  The  people 
mended  it  as  well  as  they  could,  but,  though  it  would 
hold  milk  pretty  well,  it  was  never  afterwards  known  to  fill 
itself  of  its  own  accord.  So,  you  see,  it  was  no  better  than 
any  other  cracked  earthen  pitcher.' 

167 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

'  What  a  pity  ! '  cried  all  the  children  at  once. 

The  respectable  dog  Ben  had  accompanied  the  party, 
as  did  likewise  a  half-grown  Newfoundland  puppy,  who 
went  by  the  name  of  Bruin,  because  he  was  just  as  black 
as  a  bear.  Ben,  being  elderly,  and  of  very  circumspect 
habits,  was  respectfully  requested,  by  Cousin  Eustace,  to 
stay  behind  with  the  four  little  children,  in  order  to  keep 
them  out  of  mischief.  As  for  black  Bruin,  who  was  him- 
self nothing  but  a  child,  the  student  thought  it  best  to  take 
him  along,  lest,  in  his  rude  play  with  the  other  children,  he 
should  trip  them  up,  and  send  them  rolling  and  tumbling 
down  the  hill.  Advising  Cowslip,  Sweet  Fern,  Dandelion, 
and  Squash-Blossom  to  sit  pretty  still,  in  the  spot  where  he 
left  them,  the  student,  with  Primrose  and  the  elder  children, 
began  to  ascend,  and  were  soon  out  of  sight  among  the  trees, 


THE   CHIMERA 


BALD-SUMMIT 

INTRODUCTORY  TO 
'THE  CHEVLERA' 


UPWARD,  along  the  steep  and  wooded  hill-side, 
went  Eustace  Bright  and  his  companions.  The 
trees  were  not  yet  in  full  leaf,  but  had  budded 
forth  sufficiently  to  throw  an  airy  shadow,  while  the  sunshine 
filled  them  with  green  light.  There  were  moss-grown 
rocks,  half  hidden  among  the  old,  brown,  fallen  leaves  ; 
there  were  rotten  tree-trunks,  lying  at  full  length  where 
they  had  long  ago  fallen  ;  there  were  decayed  boughs,  that 
had  been  shaken  down  by  the  wintry  gales,  and  were 
scattered  everywhere  about.  But  still,  though  these  things 
looked  so  aged,  the  aspect  of  the  wood  was  that  of  the 
newest  life  ;  for,  whichever  way  you  turned  your  eyes, 
something  fresh  and  green  was  springing  forth,  so  as  to 
be  ready  for  the  summer. 

171 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

At  last,  the  young  people  reached  the  upper  verge  of 
the  wood,  and  found  themselves  almost  at  the  summit  of 
the  hill.  It  was  not  a  peak,  nor  a  great  round  ball,  but  a 
pretty  wide  plain,  or  table-land,  with  a  house  and  barn 
upon  it,  at  some  distance.  That  house  was  the  home  of  a 
solitary  family  ;  and  oftentimes  the  clouds,  whence  fell  the 
rain,  and  whence  the  snowstorm  drifted  down  into  the 
valley,  hung  lower  than  this  bleak  and  lonely  dwelling-place. 

On  the  highest  point  of  the  hill  was  a  heap  of  stones, 
in  the  centre  of  which  was  stuck  a  long  pole,  with  a  little 
flag  fluttering  at  the  end  of  it.  Eustace  led  the  children 
thither,  and  bade  them  look  around,  and  see  how  large  a 
tract  of  our  beautiful  world  they  could  take  in  at  a  glance. 
And  their  eyes  grew  wider  as  they  looked. 

Monument  Mountain,  to  the  southward,  was  still  in 
the  centre  of  the  scene,  but  seemed  to  have  sunk  and  sub- 
sided, so  that  it  was  now  but  an  undistinguished  member 
of  a  large  family  of  hills.  Beyond  it,  the  Taconic  range 
looked  higher  and  bulkier  than  before.  Our  pretty  lake 
was  seen,  with  all  its  little  bays  and  inlets  ;  and  not  that 
alone,  but  two  or  three  new  lakes  were  opening  their  blue 
eyes  to  the  sun.  Several  white  villages,  each  with  its 
steeple,  were  scattered  about  in  the  distance.  There  were 
so  many  farmhouses,  with  their  acres  of  woodland,  pasture, 
mowing-fields,  and  tillage,  that  the  children  could  hardly 
make  room  in  their  minds  to  receive  all  these  different 
objects.  There,  too,  was  Tanglewood,  which  they  had 
hitherto  thought  such  an  important  apex  of  the  world.  It 
now  occupied  so  small  a  space,  that  they  gazed  far  beyond 
it,  and  on  either  side,  and  searched  a  good  while  with  all 
their  eyes,  before  discovering  whereabout  it  stood. 

17* 


THE  CHIMERA 

White,  fleecy  clouds  were  hanging  in  the  air,  and  threw 
the  dark  spots  of  their  shadow  here  and  there  over  the 
landscape.  But,  by  and  by,  the  sunshine  was  where  the 
shadow  had  been,  and  the  shadow  was  somewhere  else. 

Far  to  the  westward  was  a  range  of  blue  mountains, 
which  Eustace  Bright  told  the  children  were  the  Catskills. 
Among  those  misty  hills,  he  said,  was  a  spot  where  some 
old  Dutchmen  were  playing  an  everlasting  game  of  nine- 
pins, and  where  an  idle  fellow,  whose  name  was  Rip  Van 
Winkle,  had  fallen  asleep,  and  slept  twenty  years  at  a  stretch. 
The  children  eagerly  besought  Eustace  to  tell  them  all 
about  this  wonderful  affair.  But  the  student  replied  that 
the  story  had  been  told  once  already,  and  better  than  it 
ever  could  be  told  again  ;  and  that  nobody  would  have  a 
right  to  alter  a  word  of  it,  until  it  should  have  grown  as 
old  as  *  The  Gorgon's  Head/  and  *  The  Three  Golden 
Apples,'  and  the  rest  of  those  miraculous  legends. 

*  At  least/  said  Periwinkle,  '  while  we  rest  ourselves 
here,  and  are  looking  about  us,  you  can  tell  us  another 
of  your  own  stories/ 

'  Yes,  Cousin  Eustace/  cried  Primrose,  '  I  advise  you 
to  tell  us  a  story  here.  Take  some  lofty  subject  or  other, 
and  see  if  your  imagination  will  not  come  up  to  it.  Per- 
haps the  mountain  air  may  make  you  poetical,  for  once. 
And  no  matter  how  strange  and  wonderful  the  story  may 
be,  now  that  we  are  up  among  the  clouds,  we  can  believe 
anything/ 

'  Can  you  believe/  asked  Eustace,  *  that  there  was 
once  a  winged  horse  ? ' 

*  Yes/  said  saucy  Primrose  ;  *  but  I  am  afraid  you  will 
never  be  able  to  catch  him/ 

173 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

'  For  that  matter,  Primrose/  rejoined  the  student,  '  I 
might  possibly  catch  Pegasus,  and  get  upon  his  back,  too, 
as  well  as  a  dozen  other  fellows  that  I  know  of.  At  any 
rate,  here  is  a  story  about  him  ;  and,  of  all  places  in  the 
world,  it  ought  certainly  to  be  told  upon  a  mountain- top.' 

So,  sitting  on  the  pile  of  stones,  while  the  children 
clustered  themselves  at  its  base,  Eustace  fixed  his  eyes  on 
a  white  cloud  that  was  sailing  by,  and  began  as  follows. 


THE   CHIMERA 


ONCE,  in  the  old,  old  times  (for  all  the  strange  things 
which  I  tell  you  about  happened  long  before 
anybody  can  remember),  a  fountain  gushed  out 
of  a  hill-side,  in  the  marvellous  land  of  Greece.  And,  for 
aught  I  know,  after  so  many  thousand  years,  it  is  still 
gushing  out  of  the  very  selfsame  spot.  At  any  rate,  there 
was  the  pleasant  fountain,  welling  freshly  forth  and  sparkling 
adown  the  hill-side,  in  the  golden  sunset,  when  a  handsome 
young  man  named  Bellerophon  drew  near  its  margin.  In 
his  hand  he  held  a  bridle,  studded  with  brilliant  gems,  and 
adorned  with  a  golden  bit.  Seeing  an  old  man,  and  another 
of  middle  age,  and  a  little  boy,  near  the  fountain,  and  like- 
wise a  maiden,  who  was  dipping  up  some  of  the  water  in  a 
pitcher,  he  paused,  and  begged  that  he  might  refresh  him- 
self with  a  draught. 

'  This  is  very  delicious  water,'  he  said  to  the  maiden 
as  he  rinsed  and  filled  her  pitcher,  after  drinking  out  of  it. 
'  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  whether  the  fountain 
has  any  name  ? ' 

175 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

1  Yes ;  it  is  called  the  Fountain  of  Pirene,'  answered 
the  maiden  ;  and  then  she  added,  '  My  grandmother  has 
told  me  that  this  clear  fountain  was  once  a  beautiful  woman; 
and  when  her  son  was  killed  by  the  arrows  of  the  huntress 
Diana,  she  melted  all  away  into  tears.  And  so  the  water, 
which  you  find  so  cool  and  sweet,  is  the  sorrow  of  that  poor 
mother's  heart !  ' 

'  I  should  not  have  dreamed,'  observed  the  young 
stranger,  *  that  so  clear  a  well-spring,  with  its  gush  and 
gurgle,  and  its  cheery  dance  out  of  the  shade  into  the  sun- 
light, had  so  much  as  one  tear-drop  in  its  bosom  !  And 
this,  then,  is  Pirene  ?  I  thank  you,  pretty  maiden,  for 
telling  me  its  name.  I  have  come  from  a  far-away  country 
to  find  this  very  spot.' 

A  middle-aged  country  fellow  (he  had  driven  his  cow 
to  drink  out  of  the  spring)  stared  hard  at  young  Bellerophon, 
and  at  the  handsome  bridle  which  he  carried  in  his  hand. 

'  The  water-courses  must  be  getting  low,  friend,  in 
your  part  of  the  world,'  remarked  he,  *  if  you  come  so 
far  only  to  find  the  Fountain  of  Pirene.  But,  pray,  have 
you  lost  a  horse  ?  I  see  you  carry  the  bridle  in  your  hand  ; 
and  a  very  pretty  one  it  is  with  that  double  row  of  bright 
stones  upon  it.  If  the  horse  was  as  fine  as  the  bridle,  you 
are  much  to  be  pitied  for  losing  him.' 

*  I  have  lost  no  horse,'  said  Bellerophon,  with  a  smile. 
*  But  I  happen  to  be  seeking  a  very  famous  one,  which,  as 
wise  people  have  informed  me,  must  be  found  hereabouts, 
if  anywhere.  Do  you  know  whether  the  winged  horse 
Pegasus  still  haunts  the  Fountain  of  Pirene,  as  he  used  to 
do  in  your  forefathers'  days  ? ' 

But  then  the  country  fellow  laughed. 

176 


THE  CHIMERA 

Some  of  you,  my  little  friends,  have  probably  heard 
that  this  Pegasus  was  a  snow-white  steed,  with  beautiful 
silvery  wings,  who  spent  most  of  his  time  on  the  summit 
of  Mount  Helicon.  He  was  as  wild,  and  as  swift,  and  as 
buoyant,  in  his  flight  through  the  air,  as  any  eagle  that  ever 
soared  into  the  clouds.  There  was  nothing  else  like  him  in 
the  world.  He  had  no  mate  ;  he  never  had  been  backed 
or  bridled  by  a  master  ;  and,  for  many  a  long  year,  he  led 
a  solitary  and  a  happy  life. 

Oh,  how  fine  a  thing  it  is  to  be  a  winged  horse !  Sleeping 
at  night,  as  he  did,  on  a  lofty  mountain-top,  and  passing 
the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  the  air,  Pegasus  seemed  hardly 
to  be  a  creature  of  the  earth.  Whenever  he  was  seen,  up 
very  high  above  people's  heads,  with  the  sunshine  on  his 
silvery  wings,  you  would  have  thought  that  he  belonged  to 
the  sky,  and  that,  skimming  a  little  too  low,  he  had  got  astray 
among  our  mists  and  vapours,  and  was  seeking  his  way 
back  again.  It  was  very  pretty  to  behold  him  plunge  into 
the  fleecy  bosom  of  a  bright  cloud,  and  be  lost  in  it,  for  a 
moment  or  two,  and  then  break  forth  from  the  other  side. 
Or,  in  a  sullen  rain-storm,  when  there  was  a  gray  pavement 
of  clouds  over  the  whole  sky,  it  would  sometimes  happen 
that  the  winged  horse  descended  right  through  it,  and  the 
glad  light  of  the  upper  region  would  gleam  after  him.  In 
another  instant,  it  is  true,  both  Pegasus  and  the  pleasant 
light  would  be  gone  away  together.  But  any  one  that  was 
fortunate  enough  to  see  this  wondrous  spectacle  felt  cheerful 
the  whole  day  afterwards,  and  as  much  longer  as  the  storm 
lasted. 

In  the  summer-time,  and  in  the  beautifullest  of  weather, 
Pegasus  often  alighted  on  the  solid  earth,  and,  closing  his 

z  177 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

silvery  wings,  would  gallop  over  hill  and  dale  for  pastime, 
as  fleetly  as  the  wind.  Oftener  than  in  any  other  place,  he 
had  been  seen  near  the  Fountain  of  Pirene,  drinking  the 
delicious  water,  or  rolling  himself  upon  the  soft  grass  of 
the  margin.  Sometimes,  too  (but  Pegasus  was  very  dainty 
in  his  food),  he  would  crop  a  few  of  the  clover-blossoms 
that  happened  to  be  sweetest. 

To  the  Fountain  of  Pirene,  therefore,  people's  great- 
grandfathers had  been  in  the  habit  of  going  (as  long  as 
they  were  youthful,  and  retained  their  faith  in  winged 
horses),  in  hopes  of  getting  a  glimpse  at  the  beautiful 
Pegasus.  But,  of  late  years,  he  had  been  very  seldom  seen. 
Indeed,  there  were  many  of  the  country  folks,  dwelling 
within  half  an  hour's  walk  of  the  fountain,  who  had  never 
beheld  Pegasus,  and  did  not  believe  that  there  was  any 
such  creature  in  existence.  The  country  fellow  to  whom 
Bellerophon  was  speaking  chanced  to  be  one  of  those 
incredulous  persons. 

And  that  was  the  reason  why  he  laughed. 

*  Pegasus,  indeed ! '  cried  he,  turning  up  his  nose  as 
high  as  such  a  flat  nose  could  be  turned  up, — *  Pegasus, 
indeed  !  A  winged  horse,  truly  !  Why,  friend,  are  you 
in  your  senses  ?  Of  what  use  would  wings  be  to  a 
horse  ?  Could  he  drag  the  plough  so  well,  think  you  ? 
To  be  sure,  there  might  be  a  little  saving  in  the  expense 
of  shoes  ;  but  then,  how  would  a  man  like  to  see  his 
horse  flying  out  of  the  stable  window  ? — yes,  or  whisking 
him  up  above  the  clouds,  when  he  only  wanted  to  ride 
him  to  mill  ?  No,  no !  I  don't  believe  in  Pegasus. 
There  never  was  such  a  ridiculous  kind  of  a  horse-fowl 
made  ! ' 

178 


THE  CHIMERA 

'  I  have  some  reason  to  think  otherwise,'  said 
Bellerophon  quietly. 

And  then  he  turned  to  an  old,  gray  man,  who  was 
leaning  on  a  staff,  and  listening  very  attentively,  with  his 
head  stretched  forward,  and  one  hand  at  his  ear,  because, 
for  the  last  twenty  years,  he  had  been  getting  rather  deaf. 

'  And  what  say  you,  venerable  sir  ?  '  inquired  he. 
*  In  your  younger  days,  I  should  imagine  you  must  fre- 
quently have  seen  the  winged  steed  ! ' 

*  Ah,  young  stranger,  my  memory  is  very  poor  ! '  said 
the  aged  man.  *  When  I  was  a  lad,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
I  used  to  believe  there  was  such  a  horse,  and  so  did  every- 
body else.  But,  nowadays,  I  hardly  know  what  to  think, 
and  very  seldom  think  about  the  winged  horse  at  all.  If 
I  ever  saw  the  creature,  it  was  a  long,  long  while  ago  ;  and, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  doubt  whether  I  ever  did  see  him. 
One  day,  to  be  sure,  when  I  was  quite  a  youth,  I  remember 
seeing  some  hoof-tramps  round  about  the  brink  of  the 
fountain.  Pegasus  might  have  made  those  hoof-marks  ; 
and  so  might  some  other  horse.' 

'  And  have  you  never  seen  him,  my  fair  maiden  ?  ' 
asked  Bellerophon  of  the  girl,  who  stood  with  the  pitcher 
on  her  head,  while  this  talk  went  on.  *  You  certainly 
could  see  Pegasus,  if  anybody  can,  for  your  eyes  are  very 
bright.' 

'  Once  I  thought  I  saw  him,'  replied  the  maiden,  with 
a  smile  and  a  blush.  *  It  was  either  Pegasus,  or  a  large 
white  bird,  a  very  great  way  up  in  the  air.  And  one  other 
time,  as  I  was  coming  to  the  fountain  with  my  pitcher,  I 
heard  a  neigh.  Oh,  such  a  brisk  and  melodious  neigh  as 
that  was  1  My  very  heart  leaped  with  delight  at  the  sound. 

179 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

But  it  startled  me,  nevertheless  ;  so  that  I  ran  home  without 
filling  my  pitcher.' 

'  That  was  truly  a  pity  ! '  said  Bellerophon. 

And  he  turned  to  the  child,  whom  I  mentioned  at  the 
beginning  of  the  story,  and  who  was  gazing  at  him,  as 
children  are  apt  to  gaze  at  strangers,  with  his  rosy  mouth 
wide  open. 

*  Well,  my  little  fellow/  cried  Bellerophon,  playfully 
pulling  one  of  his  curls,  *  I  suppose  you  have  often  seen 
the  winged  horse.' 

'  That  I  have,'  answered  the  child,  very  readily.  '  I 
saw  him  yesterday,  and  many  times  before.' 

*  You  are  a  fine  little  man  ! '  said  Bellerophon,  drawing 
the  child  closer  to  him.    *  Come,  tell  me  all  about  it.' 

*  Why,'  replied  the  child,  *  I  often  come  here  to  sail 
little  boats  in  the  fountain,  and  to  gather  pretty  pebbles 
out  of  its  basin.    And  sometimes,  when  I  look  down  into 
the  water,  I  see  the  image  of  the  winged  horse,  in  the 
picture  of  the  sky  that  is  there.    I  wish  he  would  come 
down,  and  take  me  on  his  back,  and  let  me  ride  him  up 
to  the  moon  !    But,  if  I  so  much  as  stir  to  look  at  him, 
he  flies  far  away  out  of  sight.' 

And  Bellerophon  put  his  faith  in  the  child,  who  had 
seen  the  image  of  Pegasus  in  the  water,  and  in  the  maiden, 
who  had  heard  him  neigh  so  melodiously,  rather  than  in 
the  middle-aged  clown  who  believed  only  in  cart-horses, 
or  in  the  old  man  who  had  forgotten  the  beautiful  things 
of  his  youth. 

Therefore,  he  haunted  about  the  Fountain  of  Pirene 
for  a  great  many  days  afterwards.  He  kept  continually 
on  the  watch,  looking  upward  at  the  sky,  or  else  down  into 

1 80 


THE  CHIMERA 

the  water,  hoping  for  ever  that  he  should  see  either  the 
reflected  image  of  the  winged  horse  or  the  marvellous 
reality.  He  held  the  bridle  with  its  bright  gems  and  golden 
bit,  always  in  his  hand.  The  rustic  people  who  dwelt  in 
the  neighbourhood,  and  drove  their  cattle  to  the  fountain 
to  drink,  would  often  laugh  at  poor  Bellerophon,  and 
sometimes  take  him  pretty  severely  to  task.  They  told 
him  that  an  able-bodied  young  man,  like  himself,  ought 
to  have  better  business  thar  to  be  wasting  his  time  in  such 
an  idle  pursuit.  They  offered  to  sell  him  a  horse,  if 
he  wanted  one ;  and  when  Bellerophon  declined  the 
purchase,  they  tried  to  drive  a  bargain  with  him  for  his 
fine  bridle. 

Even  the  country  boys  thought  him  so  very  foolish, 
that  they  used  to  have  a  great  deal  of  sport  about  him,  and 
were  rude  enough  not  to  care  a  fig,  although  Bellerophon 
saw  and  heard  it.  One  little  urchin,  for  example,  would 
play  Pegasus,  and  cut  the  oddest  imaginable  capers,  by 
way  of  flying  ;  while  one  of  his  school-fellows  would 
scamper  after  him,  holding  forth  a  twist  of  bulrushes, 
which  was  intended  to  represent  Bellerophon 's  ornamental 
bridle.  But  the  gentle  child,  who  had  seen  the  picture  of 
Pegasus  in  the  water,  comforted  the  young  stranger  more 
than  all  the  naughty  boys  could  torment  him.  The  dear 
little  fellow,  in  his  play-hours,  often  sat  down  beside  him, 
and,  without  speaking  a  word,  would  look  down  into  the 
fountain  and  up  towards  the  sky,  with  so  innocent  a  faith, 
that  Bellerophon  could  not  help  feeling  encouraged. 

Now  you  will,  perhaps,  wish  to  be  told  why  it  was 
that  Bellerophon  had  undertaken  to  catch  the  winged 
horse.  And  we  shall  find  no  better  opportunity  to  speak 

181 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

about  this  matter  than  while  he  is  waiting  for  Pegasus  to 
appear. 

If  I  were  to  relate  the  whole  of  Bellerophon's  previous 
adventures,  they  might  easily  grow  into  a  very  long  story. 
It  will  be  quite  enough  to  say,  that  in  a  certain  country  of 
Asia,  a  terrible  monster,  called  a  Chimaera,  had  made  its 
appearance,  and  was  doing  more  mischief  than  could  be 
talked  about  between  now  and  sunset.  According  to  the 
best  accounts  which  I  have  been  able  to  obtain,  this 
Chimaera  was  nearly,  if  not  quite,  the  ugliest  and  most 
poisonous  creature,  and  the  strangest  and  unaccountablest, 
and  the  hardest  to  fight  with,  and  the  most  difficult  to  run 
away  from,  that  ever  came  out  of  the  earth's  inside.  It  had 
a  tail  like  a  boa-constrictor  ;  its  body  was  like  I  do  not  care 
what ;  and  it  had  three  separate  heads,  one  of  which  was 
a  lion's,  the  second  a  goat's,  and  the  third  an  abominably 
great  snake's.  And  a  hot  blast  of  fire  came  flaming  out  of 
each  of  its  three  mouths  !  Being  an  earthly  monster,  I 
doubt  whether  it  had  any  wings  ;  but,  wings  or  no,  it 
ran  like  a  goat  and  a  lion,  and  wriggled  along  like  a  serpent, 
and  thus  contrived  to  make  about  as  much  speed  as  all  the 
three  together. 

Oh,  the  mischief,  and  mischief,  and  mischief  that  this 
naughty  creature  did  !  With  its  flaming  breath,  it  could 
set  a  forest  on  fire,  or  burn  up  a  field  of  grain,  or,  for  that 
matter,  a  village,  with  all  its  fences  and  houses.  It  laid 
waste  the  whole  country  round  about,  and  used  to  eat  up 
people  and  animals  alive,  and  cook  them  afterwards  in  the 
burning  oven  of  its  stomach.  Mercy  on  us,  little  children, 
I  hope  neither  you  nor  I  will  ever  happen  to  meet  a  Chimaera. 

While  the  hateful  beast  (if  a  beast  we  can  anywise  call 

182 


THE  CHIMERA 

it)  was  doing  all  these  horrible  things,  it  so  chanced  that 
Bellerophon  came  to  that  part  of  the  world,  on  a  visit  to  the 
king.  The  king's  name  was  lobates,  and  Lycia  was  the 
country  which  he  ruled  over.  Bellerophon  was  one  of 
the  bravest  youths  in  the  world,  and  desired  nothing  so 
much  as  to  do  some  valiant  and  beneficent  deed,  such  as 
would  make  all  mankind  admire  and  love  him.  In  those 
days,  the  only  way  for  a  young  man  to  distinguish  himself 
was  by  fighting  battles,  either  with  the  enemies  of  his 
country,  or  with  wicked  giants,  or  with  troublesome 
dragons,  or  with  wild  beasts,  when  he  could  find  nothing 
more  dangerous  to  encounter.  King  lobates,  perceiving 
the  courage  of  his  youthful  visitor,  proposed  to  him  to  go 
and  fight  the  Chimaera,  which  everybody  else  was  afraid 
of,  and  which,  unless  it  should  be  soon  killed,  was  likely 
to  convert  Lycia  into  a  desert.  Bellerophon  hesitated  not 
a  moment,  but  assured  the  king  that  he  would  either  slay 
this  dreaded  Chimaera,  or  perish  in  the  attempt. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  as  the  monster  was  so  prodigiously 
swift,  he  bethought  himself  that  he  should  never  win  the 
victory  by  fighting  on  foot.  The  wisest  thing  he  could  do, 
therefore,  was  to  get  the  very  best  and  fleetest  horse  that 
could  anywhere  be  found.  And  what  other  horse,  in  all 
the  world,  was  half  so  fleet  as  the  marvellous  horse  Pegasus, 
who  had  wings  as  well  as  legs,  and  was  even  more  active 
in  the  air  than  on  the  earth  ?  To  be  sure,  a  great  many 
people  denied  that  there  was  any  such  horse  with  wings, 
and  said  that  the  stories  about  him  were  all  poetry  and 
nonsense.  But,  wonderful  as  it  appeared,  Bellerophon 
believed  that  Pegasus  was  a  real  steed,  and  hoped  that  he 
himself  might  be  fortunate  enough  to  find  him  ;  and,  once 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

fairly  mounted  on  his  back,  he  would  be  able  to  fight  the 
Chimaera  at  better  advantage. 

And  this  was  the  purpose  with  which  he  had  travelled 
from  Lycia  to  Greece,  and  had  brought  the  beautifully 
ornamented  bridle  in  his  hand.  It  was  an  enchanted 
bridle.  If  he  could  only  succeed  in  putting  the  golden 
bit  into  the  mouth  of  Pegasus,  the  winged  horse  would 
be  submissive,  and  would  own  Bellerophon  for  his  master, 
and  fly  whithersoever  he  might  choose  to  turn  the  rein. 

But,  indeed,  it  was  a  weary  and  anxious  time,  while 
Bellerophon  waited  and  waited  for  Pegasus,  in  hopes 
that  he  would  come  and  drink  at  the  Fountain  of  Pirene. 
He  was  afraid  lest  King  lobates  should  imagine  that  he 
had  fled  from  the  Chimaera.  It  pained  him,  too,  to  think 
how  much  mischief  the  monster  was  doing  while  he  himself, 
instead  of  fighting  with  it,  was  compelled  to  sit  idly  poring 
over  the  bright  waters  of  Pirene,  as  they  gushed  out  of  the 
sparkling  sand.  And  as  Pegasus  came  thither  so  seldom 
in  these  latter  years,  and  scarcely  alighted  there  more  than 
once  in  a  lifetime,  Bellerophon  feared  that  he  might  grow  an 
old  man,  and  have  no  strength  left  in  his  arms  nor  courage 
in  his  heart,  before  the  winged  horse  would  appear.  Oh, 
how  heavily  passes  the  time,  while  an  adventurous  youth 
is  yearning  to  do  his  part  in  life,  and  to  gather  in  the 
harvest  of  his  renown  !  How  hard  a  lesson  it  is  to  wait ! 
Our  life  is  brief,  and  how  much  of  it  is  spent  in  teaching  us 
only  this  ! 

Well  was  it  for  Bellerophon  that  the  gentle  child  had 
grown  so  fond  of  him,  and  was  never  weary  of  keeping 
him  company.  Every  morning  the  child  gave  him  a  new  hope 
to  put  in  his  bosom,  instead  of  yesterday's  withered  one. 

184 


THE  CHIMERA 

'  Dear  Bellerophon,'  he  would  cry,  looking  up  hope- 
fully into  his  face,  *  I  think  we  shall  see  Pegasus  to-day  ! ' 

And,  at  length,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  little  boy's 
unwavering  faith,  Bellerophon  would  have  given  up  all 
hope,  and  would  have  gone  back  to  Lycia,  and  have  done 
his  best  to  slay  the  Chimaera  without  the  help  of  the 
winged  horse.  And  in  that  case  poor  Bellerophon  would 
at  least  have  been  terribly  scorched  by  the  creature's 
breath,  and  would  most  probably  have  been  killed  and 
devoured.  Nobody  should  ever  try  to  fight  an  earth-born 
Chimaera,  unless  he  can  first  get  upon  the  back  of  an  aerial 
steed. 

One  morning  the  child  spoke  to  Bellerophon  even  more 
hopefully  than  usual. 

*  Dear,  dear  Bellerophon,'  cried  he.  *  I  know  not  why 
it  is,  but  I  feel  as  if  we  should  certainly  see  Pegasus  to-day  ! ' 

And  all  that  day  he  would  not  stir  a  step  from  Bellero- 
phon's  side  ;  so  they  ate  a  crust  of  bread  together,  and 
drank  some  of  the  water  of  the  fountain.  In  the  afternoon 
there  they  sat,  and  Bellerophon  had  thrown  his  arm 
around  the  child,  who  likewise  had  put  one  of  his  little 
hands  into  Bellerophon's.  The  latter  was  lost  in  his  own 
thoughts,  and  was  fixing  his  eyes  vacantly  on  the  trunks 
of  the  trees  that  overshadowed  the  fountain,  and  on  the 
grape-vines  that  clambered  up  among  their  branches.  But 
the  gentle  child  was  gazing  down  into  the  water  ;  he  was 
grieved  for  Bellerophon's  sake,  that  the  hope  of  another 
day  should  be  deceived,  like  so  many  before  it ;  and  two 
or  three  quiet  tear-drops  fell  from  his  eyes,  and  mingled 
with  what  were  said  to  be  the  many  tears  of  Pirene,  when 
she  wept  for  her  slain  children. 
2  A  185 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

But,  when  he  least  thought  of  it,  Bellerophon  felt  the 
pressure  of  the  child's  little  hand,  and  heard  a  soft,  almost 
breathless,  whisper. 

'  See  there,  dear  Bellerophon  !  There  is  an  image  in 
the  water  !  ' 

The  young  man  looked  down  into  the  dimpling  mirror 
of  the  fountain,  and  saw  what  he  took  to  be  the  reflection 
of  a  bird  which  seemed  to  be  flying  at  a  great  height  in 
the  air,  with  a  gleam  of  sunshine  on  its  snowy  or  silvery 
wings. 

*  What  a  splendid  bird  it  must  be  ! '  said  he.  *  And 
how  very  large  it  looks,  though  it  must  really  be  flying 
higher  than  the  clouds  ! ' 

'  It  makes  me  tremble  !  '  whispered  the  child.  *  I 
am  afraid  to  look  up  into  the  air  !  It  is  very  beautiful, 
and  yet  I  dare  only  look  at  its  image  in  the  water.  Dear 
Bellerophon,  do  you  not  see  that  it  is  no  bird  ?  It  is  the 
winged  horse  Pegasus  ! ' 

Bellerophon's  heart  began  to  throb  !  He  gazed  keenly 
upward,  but  could  not  see  the  winged  creature,  whether 
bird  or  horse  ;  because,  just  then,  it  had  plunged  into  the 
fleecy  depths  of  a  summer  cloud.  It  was  but  a  moment, 
however,  before  the  object  reappeared,  sinking  lightly 
down  out  of  the  cloud,  although  still  at  a  vast  distance  from 
the  earth.  Bellerophon  caught  the  child  in  his  arms,  and 
shrank  back  with  him,  so  that  they  were  both  hidden 
among  the  thick  shrubbery  which  grew  all  around  the 
fountain.  Not  that  he  was  afraid  of  any  harm,  but  he 
dreaded  lest,  if  Pegasus  caught  a  glimpse  of  them,  he 
would  fly  far  away,  and  alight  in  some  inaccessible  mountain- 
top.  For  it  was  really  the  winged  horse.  After  they  had 

186 


THE  CHIMERA 

expected  him  so  long,  he  was  coming  to  quench  his  thirst 
with  the  water  of  Pirene. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  aerial  wonder,  flying  in 
great  circles,  as  you  may  have  seen  a  dove  when  about  to 
alight.  Downward  came  Pegasus,  in  those  wide,  sweeping 
circles,  which  grew  narrower,  and  narrower  still,  as  he 
gradually  approached  the  earth.  The  nigher  the  view  of 
him,  the  more  beautiful  he  was,  and  the  more  marvellous 
the  sweep  of  his  silvery  wings.  At  last,  with  so  light  a 
pressure  as  hardly  to  bend  the  grass  about  the  fountain, 
or  imprint  a  hoof- tramp  in  the  sand  of  its  margin,  he 
alighted,  and,  stooping  his  wild  head,  began  to  drink. 
He  drew  in  the  water,  with  long  and  pleasant  sighs,  and 
tranquil  pauses  of  enjoyment ;  and  then  another  draught, 
and  another,  and  another.  For,  nowhere  in  the  world,  or 
up  among  the  clouds,  did  Pegasus  love  any  water  as  he 
loved  this  of  Pirene.  And  when  his  thirst  was  slaked,  he 
cropped  a  few  of  the  honey-blossoms  of  the  clover,  delicately 
tasting  them,  but  not  caring  to  make  a  hearty  meal,  because 
the  herbage,  just  beneath  the  clouds,  on  the  lofty  sides  of 
Mount  Helicon,  suited  his  palate  better  than  this  ordinary 
grass. 

After  thus  drinking  to  his  heart's  content,  and  in  his 
dainty  fashion,  condescending  to  take  a  little  food,  the 
winged  horse  began  to  caper  to  and  fro,  and  dance  as  it 
were,  out  of  mere  idleness  and  sport.  There  never  was  a 
more  playful  creature  made  than  this  very  Pegasus.  So 
there  he  frisked,  in  a  way  that  it  delights  me  to  think  about, 
fluttering  his  great  wings  as  lightly  as  ever  did  a  linnet,  and 
running  little  races,  half  on  earth,  and  half  in  air,  and  which 
I  know  not  whether  to  call  a  flight  or  a  gallop.  When  a 

187 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

creature  is  perfectly  able  to  fly,  he  sometimes  chooses  to 
run,  just  for  the  pastime  of  the  thing  ;  and  so  did  Pegasus, 
although  it  cost  him  some  little  trouble  to  keep  his  hoofs 
so  near  the  ground.  Bellerophon,  meanwhile,  holding  the 
child's  hand,  peeped  forth  from  the  shrubbery,  and  thought 
that  never  was  any  sight  so  beautiful  as  this,  nor  ever  a 
horse's  eyes  so  wild  and  spirited  as  those  of  Pegasus.  It 
seemed  a  sin  to  think  of  bridling  him  and  riding  on  his  back. 

Once  or  twice  Pegasus  stopped  and  snuffed  the  air, 
pricking  up  his  ears,  tossing  his  head,  and  turning  it  on 
all  sides,  as  if  he  partly  suspected  some  mischief  or  other. 
Seeing  nothing,  however,  and  hearing  no  sound,  he  soon 
began  his  antics  again. 

At  length, — not  that  he  was  weary,  but  only  idle  and 
luxurious, — Pegasus  folded  his  wings,  and  lay  down  on 
the  soft  green  turf.  But,  being  too  full  of  aerial  life  to 
remain  quiet  for  many  moments  together,  he  soon  rolled 
over  on  his  back,  with  his  four  slender  legs  in  the  air.  It 
was  beautiful  to  see  him,  this  one  solitary  creature,  whose 
mate  had  never  been  created,  but  who  needed  no  com- 
panion, and,  living  a  great  many  hundred  years,  was  as 
happy  as  the  centuries  were  long.  The  more  he  did  such 
things  as  mortal  horses  are  accustomed  to  do,  the  less 
earthly  and  the  more  wonderful  he  seemed.  Bellerophon 
and  the  child  almost  held  their  breath,  partly  from  a 
delightful  awe,  but  still  more  because  they  dreaded  lest 
the  slightest  stir  or  murmur  should  send  him  up,  with 
the  speed  of  an  arrow-flight,  into  the  farthest  blue  of  the 
sky. 

Finally,  when  he  had  had  enough  of  rolling  over  and 
over,  Pegasus  turned  himself  about,  and  indolently,  like 

188 


THE  CHIMERA 

any  other  horse,  put  out  his  fore  legs,  in  order  to  rise  from 
the  ground  ;  and  Bellerophon,  who  had  guessed  that  he 
would  do  so,  darted  suddenly  from  the  thicket,  and  leaped 
astride  of  his  back. 

Yes,  there  he  sat,  on  the  back  of  the  winged  horse  ! 

But  what  a  bound  did  Pegasus  make,  when,  for  the 
first  time,  he  felt  the  weight  of  a  mortal  man  upon  his 
loins  !  A  bound  indeed  !  Before  he  had  time  to  draw 
a  breath,  Bellerophon  found  himself  five  hundred  feet  aloft, 
and  still  shooting  upward,  while  the  winged  horse  snorted 
and  trembled  with  terror  and  anger.  Upward  he  went, 
up,  up,  up,  until  he  plunged  into  the  cold  misty  bosom  of 
a  cloud,  at  which,  only  a  little  while  before,  Bellerophon 
had  been  gazing,  and  fancying  it  a  very  pleasant  spot. 
Then  again,  out  of  the  heart  of  the  cloud,  Pegasus  shot 
down  like  a  thunderbolt,  as  if  he  meant  to  dash  both  him- 
self and  his  rider  headlong  against  a  rock.  Then  he  went 
through  about  a  thousand  of  the  wildest  caprioles  that  had 
ever  been  performed  either  by  a  bird  or  a  horse. 

I  cannot  tell  you  half  that  he  did.  He  skimmed  straight 
forward,  and  sideways,  and  backward.  He  reared  himself 
erect,  with  his  fore  legs  on  a  wreath  of  mist,  and  his  hind 
legs  on  nothing  at  all.  He  flung  out  his  heels  behind,  and 
put  down  his  head  between  his  legs,  with  his  wings  pointing 
right  upward.  At  about  two  miles  height  above  the  earth, 
he  turned  a  somerset,  so  that  Bellerophon's  heels  were 
where  his  head  should  have  been,  and  he  seemed  to  look 
down  into  the  sky,  instead  of  up.  He  twisted  his  head 
about,  and,  looking  Bellerophon  in  the  face,  with  fire 
flashing  from  his  eyes,  made  a  terrible  attempt  to  bite  him. 
He  fluttered  his  pinions  so  wildly  that  one  of  the  silver 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

feathers  was  shaken  out,  and  floating  earthward,  was 
picked  up  by  the  child,  who  kept  it  as  long  as  he  lived,  in 
memory  of  Pegasus  and  Bellerophon. 

But  the  latter  (who,  as  you  may  judge,  was  as  good  a 
horseman  as  ever  galloped)  had  been  watching  his  oppor- 
tunity, and  at  last  clapped  the  golden  bit  of  the  enchanted 
bridle  between  the  winged  steed's  jaws.  No  sooner  was 
this  done,  than  Pegasus  became  as  manageable  as  if  he  had 
taken  food,  all  his  life,  out  of  Bellerophon's  hand.  To 
speak  what  I  really  feel,  it  was  almost  a  sadness  to  see  so 
wild  a  creature  grow  suddenly  so  tame.  And  Pegasus 
seemed  to  feel  it  so,  likewise.  He  looked  round  to 
Bellerophon,  with  the  tears  in  his  beautiful  eyes,  instead 
of  the  fire  that  so  recently  flashed  from  them.  But  when 
Bellerophon  patted  his  head,  and  spoke  a  few  authoritative, 
yet  kind  and  soothing  words,  another  look  came  into  the 
eyes  of  Pegasus  ;  for  he  was  glad  at  heart,  after  so  many 
lonely  centuries,  to  have  found  a  companion  and  a  master. 

Thus  it  always  is  with  winged  horses,  and  with  all  such 
wild  and  solitary  creatures.  If  you  can  catch  and  overcome 
them,  it  is  the  surest  way  to  win  their  love. 

While  Pegasus  had  been  doing  his  utmost  to  shake 
Bellerophon  off  his  back,  he  had  flown  a  very  long  distance  ; 
and  they  had  come  within  sight  of  a  lofty  mountain  by 
the  time  the  bit  was  in  his  mouth.  Bellerophon  had  seen 
this  mountain  before,  and  knew  it  to  be  Helicon,  on  the 
summit  of  which  was  the  winged  horse's  abode.  Thither 
(after  looking  gently  into  his  rider's  face,  as  if  to  ask  leave) 
Pegasus  now  flew,  and,  alighting,  waited  patiently  until 
Bellerophon  should  please  to  dismount.  The  young  man, 
accordingly,  leaped  from  his  steed's  back,  but  still  held  him 

190 


THE  CHIMZERA 

fast  by  the  bridle.  Meeting  his  eyes,  however,  he  was  so 
affected  by  the  gentleness  of  his  aspect,  and  by  the  thought 
of  the  free  life  which  Pegasus  had  heretofore  lived,  that  he 
could  not  bear  to  keep  him  a  prisoner,  if  he  really  desired 
his  liberty. 

Obeying  this  generous  impulse  he  slipped  the  enchanted 
bridle  off  the  head  of  Pegasus,  and  look  the  bit  from  his 
mouth. 

*  Leave  me,  Pegasus  ! '  said  he.  *  Either  leave  me,  or 
love  me.' 

In  an  instant,  the  winged  horse  shot  almost  out  of  sight, 
soaring  straight  upward  from  the  summit  of  Mount  Helicon. 
Being  long  after  sunset,  it  was  now  twilight  on  the  mountain- 
top,  and  dusky  evening  over  all  the  country  round  about. 
But  Pegasus  flew  so  high  that  he  overtook  the  departed  day, 
and  was  bathed  in  the  upper  radiance  of  the  sun.  Ascending 
higher  and  higher,  he  looked  like  a  bright  speck,  and,  at 
last,  could  no  longer  be  seen  in  the  hollow  waste  of  the  sky. 
And  Bellerophon  was  afraid  that  he  should  never  behold 
him  more.  But,  while  he  was  lamenting  his  own  folly, 
the  bright  speck  reappeared,  and  drew  nearer  and  nearer, 
until  it  descended  lower  than  the  sunshine  ;  and,  behold, 
Pegasus  had  come  back  !  After  this  trial  there  was  no 
more  fear  of  the  winged  horse's  making  his  escape.  He 
and  Bellerophon  were  friends,  and  put  loving  faith  in 
one  another. 

That  night  they  lay  down  and  slept  together,  with 
Bellerophon's  arm  about  the  neck  of  Pegasus,  not  as  a 
caution,  but  for  kindness.  And  they  awoke  at  peep  of 
day,  and  bade  one  another  good  morning  each  in  his  own 
language. 

191 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

In  this  manner,  Bellerophon  and  the  wondrous  steed 
spent  several  days,  and  grew  better  acquainted  and  fonder 
of  each  other  all  the  time.  They  went  on  long  aerial 
journeys,  and  sometimes  ascended  so  high  that  the  earth 
looked  hardly  bigger  than — the  moon.  They  visited  distant 
countries,  and  amused  the  inhabitants,  who  thought  that 
the  beautiful  young  man,  on  the  back  of  the  winged  horse, 
must  have  come  down  out  of  the  sky.  A  thousand  miles  a 
day  was  no  more  than  an  easy  space  for  the  fleet  Pegasus  to 
pass  over.  Bellerophon  was  delighted  with  this  kind  of 
life,  and  would  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  live 
always  in  the  same  way,  aloft  in  the  clear  atmosphere  ;  for 
it  was  always  sunny  weather  up  there,  however  cheerless 
and  rainy  it  might  be  in  the  lower  region.  But  he  could  not 
forget  the  horrible  Chimaera,  which  he  had  promised  King 
lobates  to  slay.  So,  at  last,  when  he  had  become  well 
accustomed  to  feats  of  horsemanship  in  the  air,  and  could 
manage  Pegasus  with  the  least  motion  of  his  hand,  and  had 
taught  him  to  obey  his  voice,  he  determined  to  attempt 
the  performance  of  this  perilous  adventure. 

At  daybreak,  therefore,  as  soon  as  he  unclosed  his  eyes, 
he  gently  pinched  the  winged  horse 's  ear,  in  order  to  arouse 
him.  Pegasus  immediately  started  from  the  ground,  and 
pranced  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  aloft,  and  made  a  grand 
sweep  around  the  mountain- top,  by  way  of  showing  that 
he  was  wide  awake,  and  ready  for  any  kind  of  an  excursion. 
During  the  whole  of  this  little  flight,  he  uttered  a  loud, 
brisk,  and  melodious  neigh,  and  finally  came  down  at 
Bellerophon's  side,  as  lightly  as  ever  you  saw  a  sparrow 
hop  upon  a  twig. 

'  Well  done,  dear  Pegasus !  well  done,  my  sky- 

192 


THE  CHIMERA 

skimmer  ! '  cried  Bellerophon,  fondly  stroking  the  horse's 
neck.  *  And  now,  my  fleet  and  beautiful  friend,  we  must 
break  our  fast.  To-day  we  are  to  fight  the  terrible 
Chimaera.' 

As  soon  as  they  had  eaten  their  morning  meal,  and 
drank  some  sparkling  water  from  a  spring  called  Hippocrene, 
Pegasus  held  out  his  head,  of  his  own  accord,  so  that  his 
master  might  put  on  the  bridle.  Then,  with  a  great  many 
playful  leaps  and  airy  caperings,  he  showed  his  impatience 
to  be  gone  ;  while  Bellerophon  was  girding  on  his  sword, 
and  hanging  his  shield  about  his  neck,  and  preparing  him- 
self for  battle.  When  everything  was  ready,  the  rider 
mounted,  and  (as  was  his  custom,  when  going  a  long 
distance)  ascended  five  miles  perpendicularly,  so  as  the 
better  to  see  whither  he  was  directing  his  course.  He  then 
turned  the  head  of  Pegasus  towards  the  east,  and  set  out 
for  Lycia.  In  their  flight  they  overtook  an  eagle,  and  came 
so  nigh  him,  before  he  could  get  out  of  their  way,  that 
Bellerophon  might  easily  have  caught  him  by  the  leg 
Hastening  onward  at  this  rate,  it  was  still  early  in  the 
forenoon  when  they  beheld  the  lofty  mountains  of  Lycia, 
with  their  deep  and  shaggy  valleys.  If  Bellerophon  had 
been  told  truly,  it  was  in  one  of  those  dismal  valleys  that 
the  hideous  Chimaera  had  taken  up  its  abode. 

Being  now  so  near  their  journey's  end,  the  winged 
horse  gradually  descended  with  his  rider  ;  and  they  took 
advantage  of  some  clouds  that  were  floating  over  the 
mountain- tops,  in  order  to  conceal  themselves.  Hovering 
on  the  upper  surface  of  a  cloud,  and  peeping  over  its  edge, 
Bellerophon  had  a  pretty  distinct  view  of  the  mountainous 
part  of  Lycia,  and  could  look  into  all  its  shadowy  vales  at 

2B  193 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

once.  At  first  there  appeared  to  be  nothing  remarkable. 
It  was  a  wild,  savage,  and  rocky  tract  of  high  and  precipitous 
hills.  In  the  more  level  part  of  the  country,  there  were  the 
ruins  of  houses  that  had  been  burnt,  and,  here  and  there, 
the  carcasses  of  dead  cattle,  strewn  about  the  pastures 
where  they  had  been  feeding. 

*  The  Chimaera  must  have  done  this  mischief/  thought 
Bellerophon.  *  But  where  can  the  monster  be  ?  ' 

As  I  have  already  said,  there  was  nothing  remarkable 
to  be  detected,  at  first  sight,  in  any  of  the  valleys  and  dells 
that  lay  among  the  precipitous  heights  of  the  mountains. 
Nothing  at  all ;  unless,  indeed,  it  were  three  spires  of 
black  smoke,  which  issued  from  what  seemed  to  be  the 
mouth  of  a  cavern,  and  clambered  sullenly  into  the  atmo- 
sphere. Before  reaching  the  mountain-top,  these  three 
black  smoke- wreaths  mingled  themselves  into  one.  The 
cavern  was  almost  directly  beneath  the  winged  horse  and 
his  rider,  at  the  distance  of  about  a  thousand  feet.  The 
smoke,  as  it  crept  heavily  upward,  had  an  ugly  sulphurous, 
stifling  scent,  which  caused  Pegasus  to  snort  and  Bellerophon 
to  sneeze.  So  disagreeable  was  it  to  the  marvellous  steed 
(who  was  accustomed  to  breathe  only  the  purest  air), 
that  he  waved  his  wings,  and  shot  half  a  mile  out  of  the 
range  of  this  offensive  vapour. 

But,  on  looking  behind  him,  Bellerophon  saw  some- 
thing that  induced  him  first  to  draw  the  bridle,  and  then 
to  turn  Pegasus  about.  He  made  a  sign,  which  the  winged 
horse  understood,  and  sunk  slowly  through  the  air,  until 
his  hoofs  were  scarcely  more  than  a  man's  height  above 
the  rocky  bottom  of  the  valley.  In  front,  as  far  off  as  you 
could  throw  a  stone,  was  the  cavern's  mouth,  with  the  three 

194 


THE  CHIMERA 

smoke- wreaths  oozing  out  of  it.  And  what  else  did 
Bellerophon  behold  there  ? 

There  seemed  to  be  a  heap  of  strange  and  terrible 
creatures  curled  up  within  the  cavern.  Their  bodies  lay 
so  close  together,  that  Bellerophon  could  not  distinguish 
them  apart ;  but,  judging  by  their  heads,  one  of  these 
creatures  was  a  huge  snake,  the  second  a  fierce  lion,  and 
the  third  an  ugly  goat.  The  lion  and  the  goat  were  asleep  ; 
the  snake  was  broad  awake,  and  kept  staring  around  him 
with  a  great  pair  of  fiery  eyes.  But — and  this  was  the 
most  wonderful  part  of  the  matter — the  three  spires  of 
smoke  evidently  issued  from  the  nostrils  of  these  three 
heads  !  So  strange  was  the  spectacle,  that,  though  Bellero- 
phon had  been  all  along  expecting  it,  the  truth  did  not 
immediately  occur  to  him,  that  here  was  the  terrible  three- 
headed  Chimaera.  He  had  found  out  the  Chimaera's  cavern. 
The  snake,  the  lion,  and  the  goat,  as  he  supposed  them  to 
be,  were  not  three  separate  creatures,  but  one  monster  ! 

The  wicked,  hateful  thing  !  Slumbering  as  two  thirds 
of  it  were,  it  still  held,  in  its  abominable  claws,  the  remnant 
of  an  unfortunate  lamb, — or  possibly  (but  I  hate  to  think 
so)  it  was  a  dear  little  boy, — which  its  three  mouths  had 
been  gnawing,  before  two  of  them  fell  asleep  ! 

All  at  once,  Bellerophon  started  as  from  a  dream,  and 
knew  it  to  be  the  Chimaera.  Pegasus  seemed  to  know  it, 
at  the  same  instant,  and  sent  forth  a  neigh,  that  sounded 
like  the  call  of  a  trumpet  to  battle.  At  this  sound  the  three 
heads  reared  themselves  erect,  and  belched  out  great  flashes 
of  flame.  Before  Bellerophon  had  time  to  consider  what 
to  do  next,  the  monster  flung  itself  out  of  the  cavern  and 
sprung  straight  towards  him,  with  its  immense  claws 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

extended,  and  its  snaky  tail  twisting  itself  venomously 
behind.  If  Pegasus  had  not  been  as  nimble  as  a  bird, 
both  he  and  his  rider  would  have  been  overthrown  by  the 
Chimasra's  headlong  rush,  and  thus  the  battle  have  been 
ended  before  it  was  well  begun.  But  the  winged  horse  was 
not  to  be  caught  so.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  he  was 
up  aloft,  half-way  to  the  clouds,  snorting  with  anger.  He 
shuddered,  too,  not  with  affright,  but  with  utter  disgust 
at  the  loathsomeness  of  this  poisonous  thing  with  three 
heads. 

The  Chimaera,  on  the  other  hand,  raised  itself  up  so  as 
to  stand  absolutely  on  the  tip-end  of  its  tail,  with  its  talons 
pawing  fiercely  in  the  air,  and  its  three  heads  spluttering 
fire  at  Pegasus  and  his  rider.  My  stars,  how  it  roared, 
and  hissed,  and  bellowed  !  Bellerophon,  meanwhile,  was 
fitting  his  shield  on  his  arm  and  drawing  his  sword. 

*  Now,   my   beloved   Pegasus,'   he   whispered   in   the 
winged  horse's  ear,  *  thou  must  help  me  to  slay  this  in- 
sufferable monster  ;    or  else  thou  shalt  fly  back  to  thy 
solitary  mountain-peak  without  thy  friend  Bellerophon. 
For  either  the  Chimsera  dies,  or  its  three  mouths  shall 
gnaw  this  head  of  mine,  which  has  slumbered  upon  thy 
neck ! ' 

Pegasus  whinnied,  and,  turning  back  his  head,  rubbed 
his  nose  tenderly  against  his  rider's  cheek.  It  was  his  way 
of  telling  him  that,  though  he  had  wings  and  was  an 
immortal  horse,  yet  he  would  perish,  if  it  were  possible 
for  immortality  to  perish,  rather  than  leave  Bellerophon 
behind. 

*  I  thank  you,  Pegasus,'  answered  Bellerophon.    '  Now 
then,  let  us  make  a  dash  at  the  monster  i  " 

196 


/ 


Its  three  heads  spluttering  fire 


THE  CHIMERA 

Uttering  these  words,  he  shook  the  bridle ;  and 
Pegasus  darted  down  aslant,  as  swift  as  the  flight  of  an 
arrow,  right  towards  the  Chimaera 's  threefold  head,  which, 
all  this  time,  was  poking  itself  as  high  as  it  could  into  the 
air.  As  he  came  within  arm's-length,  Bellerophon  made 
a  cut  at  the  monster,  but  was  carried  onward  by  his  steed, 
before  he  could  see  whether  the  blow  had  been  successful. 
Pegasus  continued  his  course,  but  soon  wheeled  round,  at 
about  the  same  distance  from  the  Chimaera  as  before. 
Bellerophon  then  perceived  that  he  had  cut  the  goat's 
head  of  the  monster  almost  off,  so  that  it  dangled  down- 
ward by  the  skin,  and  seemed  quite  dead. 

But,  to  make  amends,  the  snake's  head  and  the  lion's 
head  had  taken  all  the  fierceness  of  the  dead  one  into 
themselves,  and  spit  flame,  and  hissed,  and  roared,  with 
a  vast  deal  more  fury  than  before. 

'  Never  mind,  my  brave  Pegasus  ! '  cried  Bellerophon. 
*  With  another  stroke  like  that,  we  will  stop  either  its 
hissing  or  its  roaring.' 

And  again  he  shook  the  bridle.  Dashing  aslantwise, 
as  before,  the  winged  horse  made  another  arrow-flight 
towards  the  Chimaera,  and  Bellerophon  aimed  another 
downright  stroke  at  one  of  the  two  remaining  heads,  as  he 
shot  by.  But  this  time,  neither  he  nor  Pegasus  escaped  so 
well  as  at  first.  With  one  of  its  claws,  the  Chimaera  had 
given  the  young  man  a  deep  scratch  in  his  shoulder,  and 
had  slightly  damaged  the  left  wing  of  the  flying  steed  with 
the  other.  On  his  part,  Bellerophon  had  mortally  wounded 
the  lion's  head  of  the  monster,  insomuch  that  it  now  hung 
downward,  with  its  fire  almost  extinguished,  and  sending 
out  gasps  of  thick  black  smoke.  The  snake's  head,  how- 

197 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

ever  (which  was  the  only  one  now  left),  was  twice  as  fierce 
and  venomous  as  ever  before.  It  belched  forth  shoots  of 
fire  five  hundred  yards  long,  and  emitted  hisses  so  loud,  so 
harsh,  and  so  ear-piercing,  that  King  lobates  heard  them, 
fifty  miles  off,  and  trembled  till  the  throne  shook  under  him. 

*  Well-a-day  !  '  thought  the  poor  king  ;  *  the  Chimaera 
is  certainly  coming  to  devour  me  !  ' 

Meanwhile  Pegasus  had  again  paused  in  the  air,  and 
neighed  angrily,  while  sparkles  of  a  pure  crystal  flame 
darted  out  of  his  eyes.  How  unlike  the  lurid  fire  of  the 
Chimaera  !  The  aerial  steed's  spirit  was  all  aroused,  and 
so  was  that  of  Bellerophon. 

'  Dost  thou  bleed,  my  immortal  horse  ? '  cried  the 
young  man,  caring  less  for  his  own  hurt  than  for  the  anguish 
of  this  glorious  creature,  that  ought  never  to  have  tasted 
pain.  *  The  execrable  Chimaera  shall  pay  for  this  mischief 
with  his  last  head  ! ' 

Then  he  shook  the  bridle,  shouted  loudly,  and  guided 
Pegasus,  not  aslantwise  as  before,  but  straight  at  the 
monster's  hideous  front.  So  rapid  was  the  onset,  that 
it  seemed  but  a  dazzle  and  a  flash  before  Bellerophon  was 
at  close  gripes  with  his  enemy. 

The  Chimaera,  by  this  time,  after  losing  his  second 
head,  had  got  into  a  red-hot  passion  of  pain  and  rampant 
rage.  It  so  flounced  about,  half  on  earth  and  partly  in  the 
air,  that  it  was  impossible  to  say  which  element  it  rested 
upon.  It  opened  its  snake-jaws  to  such  an  abominable 
width,  that  Pegasus  might  almost,  I  was  going  to  say,  have 
flown  right  down  its  throat,  wings  outspread,  rider  and  all  1 
At  their  approach  it  shot  out  a  tremendous  blast  of  its  fiery 
breath,  and  enveloped  Bellerophon  and  his  steed  in  a 

198 


THE  CHIMERA 

perfect  atmosphere  of  flame,  singeing  the  wings  of  Pegasus, 
scorching  off  one  whole  side  of  the  young  man's  golden 
ringlets,  and  making  them  both  far  hotter  than  was  com- 
fortable, from  head  to  foot. 

But  this  was  nothing  to  what  followed. 

When  the  airy  rush  of  the  winged  horse  had  brought 
him  within  the  distance  of  a  hundred  yards,  the  Chimaera 
gave  a  spring,  and  flung  its  huge,  awkward,  venomous, 
and  utterly  detestable  carcass  right  upon  poor  Pegasus, 
clung  round  him  with  might  and  main,  and  tied  up  its 
snaky  tail  into  a  knot !  Up  flew  the  aerial  steed,  higher, 
higher,  higher,  above  the  mountain-peaks,  above  the 
clouds,  and  almost  out  of  sight  of  the  solid  earth.  But 
still  the  earth-born  monster  kept  its  hold,  and  was  borne 
upward,  along  with  the  creature  of  light  and  air.  Bellero- 
phon,  meanwhile,  turning  about,  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  the  ugly  grimness  of  the  Chimaera's  visage,  and 
could  only  avoid  being  scorched  to  death,  or  bitten  right 
in  twain,  by  holding  up  his  shield.  Over  the  upper  edge 
of  the  shield,  he  looked  sternly  into  the  savage  eyes  of  the 
monster. 

But  the  Chimaera  was  so  mad  and  wild  with  pain,  that 
it  did  not  guard  itself  so  well  as  might  else  have  been  the 
case.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  best  way  to  fight  a  Chimaera 
is  by  getting  as  close  to  it  as  you  can.  In  its  efforts  to 
stick  its  horrible  iron  claws  into  its  enemy,  the  creature 
left  its  own  breast  quite  exposed  ;  and  perceiving  this, 
Bellerophon  thrust  his  sword  up  to  the  hilt  into  its  cruel 
heart.  Immediately  the  snaky  tail  untied  its  knot.  The 
monster  let  go  its  hold  of  Pegasus,  and  fell  from  that 
vast  height,  downward  ;  while  the  fire  within  its  bosom, 

199 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

instead  of  being  put  out,  burned  fiercer  than  ever,  and 
quickly  began  to  consume  the  dead  carcass.  Thus  it  fell 
out  of  the  sky,  all  a-flame,  and  (it  being  nightfall  before  it 
reached  the  earth)  was  mistaken  for  a  shooting  star  or  a 
comet.  But,  at  early  sunrise,  some  cottagers  were  going 
to  their  day's  labour,  and  saw,  to  their  astonishment,  that 
several  acres  of  ground  were  strewn  with  black  ashes.  In 
the  middle  of  a  field,  there  was  a  heap  of  whitened  bones,  a 
great  deal  higher  than  a  haystack.  Nothing  else  was  ever 
seen  of  the  dreadful  Chimaera  ! 

And  when  Bellerophon  had  won  the  victory,  he  bent 
forward  and  kissed  Pegasus,  while  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes. 

*  Back  now,  my  beloved  steed  !  '    said  he.    *  Back  to 
the  Fountain  of  Pirene  ! ' 

Pegasus  skimmed  through  the  air,  quicker  than  ever 
he  did  before,  and  reached  the  fountain  in  a  very  short 
time.  And  there  he  found  the  old  man  leaning  on  his 
staff,  and  the  country  fellow  watering  his  cow,  and  the 
pretty  maiden  filling  her  pitcher. 

*  I  remember  now,'  quoth  the  old  man,  c  I  saw  this 
winged  horse  once  before,  when  I  was  quite  a  lad.    But 
he  was  ten  times  handsomer  in  those  days.' 

'  I  own  a  cart-horse,  worth  three  of  him  ! '  said  the 
country  fellow.  '  If  this  pony  were  mine,  the  first  thing 
I  should  do  would  be  to  clip  his  wings  !  ' 

But  the  poor  maiden  said  nothing,  for  she  had  always 
the  luck  to  be  afraid  at  the  wrong  time.  So  she  ran  away, 
and  let  her  pitcher  tumble  down,  and  broke  it. 

'  Where  is  the  gentle  child,'  asked  Bellerophon,  '  who 
used  to  keep  me  company,  and  never  lost  his  faith,  and 
never  was  weary  of  gazing  into  the  fountain  ?  ' 

200 


THE  CHIMERA 

'  Here  am  I,  dear  Bellerophon ! '  said  the  child 
softly. 

For  the  little  boy  had  spent  day  after  day,  on  the  margin 
of  Pirene,  waiting  for  his  friend  to  come  back  ;  but  when 
he  perceived  Bellerophon  descending  through  the  clouds, 
mounted  on  the  winged  horse,  he  had  shrunk  back  into  the 
shrubbery.  He  was  a  delicate  and  tender  child,  and 
dreaded  lest  the  old  man  and  the  country  fellow  should  see 
the  tears  gushing  from  his  eyes. 

1  Thou  hast  won  the  victory,'  said  he  joyfully,  running 
to  the  knee  of  Bellerophon,  who  still  sat  on  the  back  of 
Pegasus.  *  I  knew  thou  wouldst.' 

5  Yes,  dear  child  !  '  replied  Bellerophon,  alighting 
from  the  winged  horse.  *  But  if  thy  faith  had  not  helped 
me,  I  should  never  have  waited  for  Pegasus,  and  never 
have  gone  up  above  the  clouds,  and  never  have  conquered 
the  terrible  Chimaera.  Thou,  my  beloved  little  friend, 
hast  done  it  all.  And  now  let  us  give  Pegasus  his 
liberty.' 

So  he  slipped  off  the  enchanted  bridle  from  the  head 
of  the  marvellous  steed. 

*  Be  free,  for  evermore,  my  Pegasus ! '  cried  he,  with 
a  shade  of  sadness  in  his  tone.    *  Be  as  free  as  thou  art 
fleet ! ' 

But  Pegasus  rested  his  head  on  Bellerophon's  shoulder, 
and  would  not  be  persuaded  to  take  flight. 

*  Well  then,'  said  Bellerophon,  caressing  the  airy  horse, 
*  thou  shalt  be  with  me,  as  long  as  thou  wilt ;  and  we  will 
go  together,  forthwith,  and  tell  King  lobates  that  the 
Chimaera  is  destroyed.' 

Then   Bellerophon   embraced   the   gentle    child,   and 
ac  201 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

promised  to  come  to  him  again,  and  departed.  But,  in 
after  years,  that  child  took  higher  flights  upon  the  aerial 
steed  than  ever  did  Bellerophon,  and  achieved  more 
honourable  deeds  than  his  friend 's  victory  over  the 
Chimaera.  For,  gentle  and  tender  as  he  was,  he  grew  to 
be  a  mighty  poet  f 


so* 


BALD-SUMMIT 

AFTER  THE  STORY 


EUSTACE  BRIGHT  told  the  legend  of  Bellerophon 
with  as  much  fervour  and  animation  as  if  he  had 
really  been  taking  a  gallop  on  the  winged  horse. 
At  the  conclusion,  he  was  gratified  to  discern,  by  the 
glowing  countenances  of  his  auditors,  how  greatly  they  had 
been  interested.  All  their  eyes  were  dancing  in  their 
heads,  except  those  of  Primrose.  In  her  eyes  there  were 
positively  tears  ;  for  she  was  conscious  of  something  in 
the  legend  which  the  rest  of  them  were  not  yet  old  enough 
to  feel.  Child's  story  as  it  was,  the  student  had  contrived 
to  breaths  through  it  the  ardour,  the  generous  hope,  and 
the  imaginative  enterprise  of  youth. 

*  I  forgive  you  now,  Primrose/  said  he,  *  for  all  your 
ridicule  of  myself  and  my  stories.    One  tear  pays  for  a 
great  deal  of  laughter.' 

*  Well,  Mr.  Bright/  answered  Primrose,  wiping  her 
eyes,  and  giving  him  another  of  her  mischievous  smiles, 
'  it  certainly  does  elevate  your  ideas,  to  get  your  head 

303 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

above  the  clouds.  I  advise  you  never  to  tell  another 
story,  unless  it  be,  as  at  present,  from  the  top  of  a  mountain/ 

'  Or  from  the  back  of  Pegasus/  replied  Eustace, 
laughing.  *  Don't  you  think  that  I  succeeded  pretty 
well  in  catching  that  wonderful  pony  ? ' 

'  It  was  so  like  one  of  your  madcap  pranks  ! '  cried 
Primrose,  clapping  her  hands.  *  I  think  I  see  you  now  on 
his  back,  two  miles  high  ;  and  with  your  head  downward  I 
It  is  well  that  you  have  not  really  an  opportunity  of  trying 
your  horsemanship  on  any  wilder  steed  than  our  sober 
Davy,  or  Old  Hundred.' 

*  For  my  part,  I  wish  I  had  Pegasus  here,  at  this 
moment,'  said  the  student.  c  I  would  mount  him  forth- 
with, and  gallop  about  the  country,  within  a  circumference 
of  a  few  miles,  making  literary  calls  on  my  brother-authors. 
Dr.  Dewey  would  be  within  my  reach,  at  the  foot  of 
Taconic.  In  Stockbridge,  yonder,  is  Mr.  James,  con- 
spicuous to  all  the  world  on  his  mountain-pile  of  history 
and  romance.  Longfellow,  I  believe,  is  not  yet  at  the 
Ox-bow,  else  the  winged  horse  would  neigh  at  the  sight 
of  him.  But,  here  in  Lenox,  I  should  find  our  most 
truthful  novelist,  who  has  made  the  scenery  and  life  of 
Berkshire  all  her  own.  On  the  hither  side  of  Pittsfield  sits 
Herman  Melville,  shaping  out  the  gigantic  conception  of 
his  "  White  Whale,"  while  the  gigantic  shape  of  Graylock 
looms  upon  him  from  his  study-window.  Another  bound 
of  my  flying  steed  would  bring  me  to  the  door  of  Holmes, 
whom  1  mention  last,  because  Pegasus  would  certainly 
unseat  me,  the  next  minute,  and  claim  the  poet  as  his 
rider/ 

'  Have  we  not  an  author  for  our  next  neighbour  ? '  asked 

204 


THE  CHIMERA 

Primrose.  *  That  silent  man,  who  lives  in  the  old  red 
house,  near  Tanglewood  Avenue,  and  whom  we  sometimes 
meet,  with  two  children  at  his  side,  in  the  woods  or  at  the 
lake.  I  think  I  have  heard  of  his  having  written  a  poem, 
or  a  romance,  or  an  arithmetic,  or  a  school-history,  or  some 
other  kind  of  a  book.' 

*  Hush,  Primrose,  hush  ! '    exclaimed  Eustace,  in  a 
thrilling  whisper,  and  putting  his  finger  on  his  lip.    c  Not 
a  word  about  that  man,  even  on  a  hill-top  !    If  our  babble 
were  to  reach  his  ears,  and  happen  not  to  please  him,  he 
has  but  to  fling  a  quire  or  two  of  paper  into  the  stove,  and 
you,  Primrose,  and  I,  and  Periwinkle,  Sweet  Fern,  Squash- 
Blossom,  Blue  Eye,  Huckleberry,  Clover,  Cowslip,  Plantain, 
Milkweed,  Dandelion,  and  Buttercup, — yes,  and  wise  Mr. 
Pringle,  with  his  unfavourable  criticisms  on  my  legends, 
and  poor  Mrs.  Pringle,  too, — would  all  turn  to  smoke,  and 
go  whisking  up  the  funnel !    Our  neighbour  in  the  red 
house  is  a  harmless  sort  of  person  enough,  for  aught  I 
know,  as  concerns  the  rest  of  the  world  ;   but  something 
whispers  to  me  that  he  has  a  terrible  power  over  ourselves, 
extending  to  nothing  short  of  annihilation/ 

*  And  would  Tanglewood  turn  to  smoke,  as  well  as 
we  ? '    asked  Periwinkle,  quite  appalled  at  the  threatened 
destruction.    '  And    what    would    become    of    Ben    and 
Bruin  ?  ' 

1  Tanglewood  would  remain,'  replied  the  student, 
*  looking  just  as  it  does  now,  but  occupied  by  an  entirely 
different  family.  And  Ben  and  Bruin  would  be  still  alive, 
and  would  make  themselves  very  comfortable  with  the 
bones  from  the  dinner-table,  without  ever  thinking  of  the 
good  times  which  they  and  we  have  had  together  ! ' 

205 


A  WONDER-BOOK 

'  What  nonsense  you  are  talking  ! '  exclaimed  Primrose. 

With  idle  chat  of  this  kind,  the  party  had  already  begun 
to  descend  the  hill,  and  were  now  within  the  shadow  of  the 
woods.  Primrose  gathered  some  mountain-laurel,  the  leaf 
of  which,  though  of  last  year's  growth,  was  still  as  verdant 
and  elastic  as  if  the  frost  and  thaw  had  not  alternately 
tried  their  force  upon  its  texture.  Of  these  twigs  of  laurel 
she  twined  a  wreath,  and  took  off  the  student's  cap,  in  order 
to  place  it  on  his  brow. 

*  Nobody  else  is  likely  to  crown  you  for  your  stories/ 
observed  saucy  Primrose,  *  so  take  this  from  me.' 

*  Do  not  be  too  sure,'  answered  Eustace,  looking  really 
like  a  youthful  poet,  with  the  laurel  among  his  glossy 
curls,  *  that  I  shall  not  win  other  wreaths  by  these  wonder- 
ful and  admirable  stories.    I  mean  to  spend  all  my  leisure, 
during  the  rest  of  the  vacation,  and  throughout  the  summer 
term  at  college,  in  writing  them  out  for  the  press.    Mr. 
J.  T.  Fields  (with  whom  I  became  acquainted  when  he  was 
in  Berkshire,  last  summer,  and  who  is  a  poet,  as  well  as  a 
publisher)  will  see  their  uncommon  merit  at  a  glance.    He 
will  get  them  illustrated,  I  hope,  by  Billings,  and  will 
bring  them  before  the  world  under  the  very  best  of  auspices, 
through  the  eminent  house  of  TICKNOR  &  Co.    In  about 
five  months  from  this  moment,  I  make  no  doubt  of  being 
reckoned  among  the  lights  of  the  age  ! ' 

*  Poor   boy  ! '    said   Primrose,   half  aside.    *  What   a 
disappointment  awaits  him  ! ' 

Descending  a  little  lower,  Bruin  began  to  bark,  and 
was  answered  by  the  graver  bow-wow  of  the  respectable 
Ben.  They  soon  saw  the  good  old  dog,  keeping  careful 
watch  over  Dandelion,  Sweet  Fern,  Cowslip,  and  Squash- 

206 


THE  CHIMERA 

Blossom.  These  little  people,  quite  recovered  from  their 
fatigue,  had  set  about  gathering  checkerberries,  and  now 
came  clambering  to  meet  their  playfellows.  Thus  re- 
united, the  whole  party  went  down  through  Luther 
Butler's  orchard,  and  made  the  best  of  their  way  home 
to  Tanglewood. 


THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


